


An Angel's Hope

by Beckers522



Series: The Ase'Mareksa Chronicles [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Kiesha'ra Series - Amelia Atwater-Rhodes
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale is a soldier, Based on the book Hawksong, Canonical Character Death, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Crowley is a dancer, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, there is a war going on and people will die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:47:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 77,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21542452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckers522/pseuds/Beckers522
Summary: The Avians and the Serpiente, two kingdoms of shape-shifters, have been at war for thousands of years until their leaders, the beautiful hawk Tuuli Thea, Danica Sharde, and the mysterious cobra Diente, Zane Cobriana, decide to stop the fighting once and for all with their union. Danica and Zane have hope that things will get better, but their peace is fragile. Aziraphale, member of the Royal Flight and personal guard to Danica has sworn to defend her at the cost of his life, but as he travels with her to the Serpiente palace, he runs into someone from his past, a serpent with fiery red hair and bright amber eyes that he thought he would never see again.As time marches on, Aziraphale finds himself growing closer to the beautiful and intriguing serpent dancer, Crowley. His heart yearns to open up to the man, but Aziraphale is afraid. The war stole the lives of everyone he has ever cared about. What if he takes that risk and lets Crowley into his battered and broken heart? What if Zane and Danica's peace does not last? What if their two people were never meant to live as one?What if he finally allows himself to love Crowley only to lose him forever?
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Ase'Mareksa Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045802
Comments: 244
Kudos: 178





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So, once again, I'm trying something totally new. It could end up being great, or people could hate it. But I love the idea and I want to see it through to the end. Hopefully you all will like it enough too to stick with me that long :)
> 
> For those of you who have read the Kiesha'ra series, this story will be inserting Crowley and Aziraphale into the events of Hawksong. I may do a follow on story with some of the other books, depending on how this story goes.
> 
> For those of you who have not read the series, be not afraid. I will do my best to incorporate all the details you may need to know while reading it to make the story make sense and have it be enjoyable. If you have not read these books, I highly recommend the series. It was one of my favorites in high school (it still is) and was actually the first exposure I had to a main character in a same-sex relationship (happens in book 4).
> 
> I sincerely hope that if you are reading this, you enjoy the story I have to tell. I would love to hear some feedback, as I'm pretty sure this is the first time anyone has put these two wonderful stories together. It would be great to hear what you guys think!

* * *

**Year: 708 BCE**

The news of his pair bond’s death pierced Aziraphale’s soul just as the Serpiente arrow had pierced Claire’s own gentle heart, dragging her down to the ground along with it.

He’d been her Alistair, her protector, from the moment she entered this world just over fifteen years ago. Aziraphale had watched her grow up alongside him. Claire had been one of his closest friends and he had considered himself fortunate to someday have the opportunity to create a family with her. 

Their future had been so bright, and in an instant, the war had ripped her away from him, just as it had ripped away so many others he had known and cared about. For thousands of years, the war between the Avians and Serpiente had stolen countless lives. They had been fighting for so long that everyone had forgotten how it had all started. 

Avian lore stated that the first of their kind, a woman named Alasdair, welcomed the Serpiente into her home and they turned around and stabbed her in the back. Serpiente claimed this to be untrue, that it was their leader who had been lured into a trap, killed by the Avian guards after being promised their hospitality.

Any which way the story was told, the end was always the same. Avians and Serpiente locked in a never ending struggle, destined to hurt and maim and kill until not a single one of them remained standing.

“She is flying free now”, Xavier, his prince, whispered to him under the bright light of the roaring fire that slowly consumed Claire’s body. Aziraphale watched, transfixed as the girl he knew disappeared from this world, never to be seen again.

The words weren’t enough. They would never be enough, but Aziraphale couldn’t very well say that. He was Avian by nature, and he was expected to control his emotions. He was expected to remain silent, steadfast, not a tear to be seen. Avian reserve was the pride of his people. Shedding a tear for a loved one was seen as an embarrassment, a weakness, a dishonor to their memory.

Aziraphale had cared for the younger sparrow. He had loved her as all Alistairs loved their pair bonds, with a fierce and overwhelming protectiveness. Now that she was gone, he would be expected to choose someone new. Not right away, but in time, he would have to. There was a war to be won after all, a population to uphold. Aziraphale would do what was expected of him, but he couldn’t fathom how he could learn to care for someone as deeply as he had for Claire. 

A part of him died that night, as the embers of the fire turned to ash and only his prince and Xavier’s pair bond, Claire’s sister, remained. The closest members of the deceased’s family were always the last to leave. Expected to remain behind, holding in their tears and their pain until the last light of the fire faded away until nothingness. He was told that these things got easier, the more loved ones a person lost. Aziraphale had lost his parents at a young age. His older brother the year prior, and now he had lost the young woman who was to be his future.

If this was supposed to feel easier each time, he dreaded what the next death might do to him. Aziraphale prayed it might be his own. He had so few precious friends left to lose. The thought that something might happen to his prince or Danica, Xavier’s sister and heir to the Avian throne, the next Tuuli Thea, was unbearable.

“Aziraphale, wait!” the soft voice of Emilia, the deceased’s sister, rang out in the air around them as Aziraphale turned around and began to walk swiftly away. The last ember had just turned a coal black, the last speck of Claire’s life fading away with it, and the young man knew that if he remained here, he would break.

“You don’t have to be alone.”

Kind words, but Aziraphale could see right through them. Emilia may mean well, but he knew there was a hollowness to her promise. Yes, he could stay awake with them until the soft light of dawn peeked over the horizon, but eventually, he would have to sleep. He would have to return to his chambers in the Hawk’s Keep alone. No one could comfort him there. As a young Avian gentleman, he would continue to sleep alone until he made his Alistair vows to a new pair bond. Only once his promise had been made and they both turned eighteen would he finally cease to be alone.

“Let him go,” Xavier’s voice echoed around them in the soft tone he reserved only for his pair bond. “Give him time.”

Aziraphale did not turn around, but a soft smile of appreciation tugged at the corner of his lips. He hesitated at the edge of the cliff, blue-grey eyes staring off into the distance at the smattering of starlight overhead. He wasn’t ready to go back to the Keep. Wasn’t ready to turn in for a night where visions of Claire’s unseeing brown eyes haunted his dreams. His brother, Gabriel, had tormented Aziraphale for months after his death, and they hadn’t been that close. The Avian could only imagine what he was in store for now that it was Claire weighing heavy on his heart.

He wasn’t quite sure he would survive it. 

Quickly, without so much as a second thought, Aziraphale shifted his tired human form into one with powerful wings and feathers of the purest white. Most Avians had a second form that resembled more common birds - ravens, crows, sparrows and the like. Aziraphale was descended from a long line of doves that had settled in the area a few hundred years ago. When he transformed, he took on the appearance of the majestic white bird - a bird that had long been known as the symbol of peace.

And here he was, well on his way to becoming an agent for war.

Azirpahale flew away from Mourner’s Rock. In his full Avian form, the young man found it much easier to stave off his grief, if only for a few moments longer. Perhaps it was the exhilaration of the wind beneath his wings. Perhaps it was the knowledge that birds in the wild did not cry, and neither should he. Whatever the reason, Aziraphale was grateful. He needed to hold onto his emotions a bit longer until he could find a suitable place to finally let them all go.

There was no way to know how Aziraphale ended up out in the fields. He’d let his mind wander during the flight, lingering on thoughts of Claire and her bright smile. The way her brown hair fell in ringlets down past her shoulder blades. The way her brown eyes shone with affection whenever he sought her out to say hello. They had been spending less time together than usual, now that Azirphale was part of the Keep’s guard and on his way to being a member of the Royal Flight, the personal guards to the Royal family - of which now there were only three. Current Tuuli Thea, Nacola Shardae, her middle daughter, Danica Shardae, and youngest son, Aziraphale’s closest friend, Xavier Shardae.

Being a member of the Royal Flight had been Aziraphale’s dream since he was a young boy. There could be no higher honor than to fight to protect the golden hawk family. He was close to reaching that goal. A few more months of training and he would be ready to try out for the position. A few more months, and Aziraphale would finally get the chance to prove himself.

Only once he found himself soaring closer to the grass covered earth did Aziraphale realize where he was. He should have felt a bolt of fear course through him. This territory was near the borderlands between the Avian and Serpiente kingdoms. For an Avian flying alone, it was a dangerous place to be. From the air, an Avian had the advantage every time. The moment a Serpiente arrow hit its target, all tides shifted. On the ground, an Avian was quickly outmatched by the elusive and potent Serpents.

That thought was the only thing that kept Aziraphale from turning back. A group of Serpiente archers had decided that a lone sparrow needed to be felled earlier that day. That decision had cost Aziraphale his pair bond. Let them try and make the same decision tonight. He would take the whole squadron down with him if need be.

Green grass crumpled beneath his leather boots as Aziraphale shifted into his demi form - that of a human man no older than seventeen, with white blonde curls, blue-grey eyes and broad white wings mounted onto his back, in between his shoulder blades. He blinked, looking around for any sign of movement. Serpents were tricky devils. They could easily hide amongst the shadows, shifting in and out of their snakeskinned form without pausing to take a breath. One bite from their venomous jaws, and he was dead. It didn’t matter which form the poison came from, both were lethal. One just had a tendency to kill Avians faster.

He was met with only silence. There was no one else around. Aziraphale was out here in the dark, beneath the canopy of trees. He was completely and utterly alone. 

Tremors began passing through his body before Aziraphale’s eyes finally caught up with his emotions. Tears overflowed against his skin as hot liquid streamed down his cheeks. A sob ripped itself from Aziraphale’s throat and he hastily tried to choke it down, forcing deep breaths into his lungs. Everything hurt. His eyes, his cheeks, his lungs, his stomach. Even his wings ached, although he had barely used them all day.

It just wasn’t fair. Claire was an _innocent_ in all of this. As much as any of them could be. She had only been fifteen. She wasn’t a soldier - she wasn’t trained for battle. There was a reason no civilians were permitted this far away from the Hawk’s keep. It was too dangerous no matter the time of day. Claire should not have been out here, especially not on her own, but she had heard word that her father’s scouting party had been ambushed, and Aziraphale had been in training and was not around to try and stop her.

Claire’s and Emilia’s father had been another one they’d mourned for that day.

A sound at the edge of his hearing caught Aziraphale’s attention. With soldier-like reflexes, he snapped to attention, vanishing his wings and cutting off all sound pouring from his lips. A quick wipe of his sleeve and the tears were gone, the ever present mask of his reserve firmly in place.

Aziraphale wasn’t alone anymore. He could hear the ragged, soft breathing of someone else nearby.

Someone else in pain.

He should have left, in that moment. He should have fled back to the Hawk’s Keep where he knew it was safe, but Aziraphale couldn’t. The moment he heard that gasping breath, all he could think about was Claire, tumbling from the sky, her lungs slowly filling with blood. All alone as she took her final breaths.

Who was out here so late at night? By now, all of the bodies from the earlier skirmish should have been retrieved and taken to rest. Had they missed someone? Aziraphale doubted an Avian would have overlooked one of their own. What about the Serpiente? If they were truly as cruel as the legends said, perhaps their kind _would_ leave a dying soldier on the battlefield, if there was nothing more they could do to save them.

For a moment, Aziraphale paused. What should he do? Should he go back home, curl up in his bed and sleep until morning? Should he do his best to find out who it was and if he could help them?

Didn’t he owe it to them to find out? Didn’t he owe it to himself to try?

Aziraphale took a deep breath, hoping it would calm his fraying nerves, and began to follow the moon as it slowly drifted across the inky black skies. He reached down into his boot and pulled out a dagger to hold out in front of him. It wouldn’t do much against a serpent’s ambush, but if Aziraphale found himself in hand to hand combat, this was better than having no weapon at all.

In the span of three minutes, the Avian found his target. He could hear the rasping breaths growing louder with each cautious step that he took and as Aziraphale passed the next grove of trees, he saw a figure, wearing all black, leaning up against a tree.

The shadows of the leaves above him covered the man’s face, but Aziraphale could see the outline of his silhouette. He was slumped over against the trunk, face resting against the rough bark. His legs were splayed out in front of him, arms dangling limply at his side. 

From his position a dozen or so feet away, Aziraphale could see the erratic rising and falling of the man’s chest. More importantly, he could see the arrow currently protruding out of the man’s stomach.

An Avian arrow.

 _Shit._ Aziraphale froze for a moment, not knowing what to do. The presence of that arrow meant only one thing.

The man was Serpiente.

He should go. Aziraphale should retreat now and leave the man to die. If that was, indeed, an Avian bolt, there was no way it had not been poisoned before being fired. That man was as good as dead. Aziraphale was honestly surprised he wasn’t already. The poison that Avian soldiers used was a gift from Ahnmik, the land of the Falcons. It was a Falcon creation intended to cause only minor fatigue in any Avian, but result in near instant death when coming into contact with a serpent.It was the only way the Avians had managed to survive this long in the war. Without am’haj, the avian poison, they would have been defeated a long time ago.

If this man was still alive, it meant that the poison had likely been diluted, which did happen on occasion. In its pure form, a nick from an arrow would have a serpent unconscious in seconds and dead within a minute. Diluted, their supply could be made to last longer, and would still take a serpent down within seconds, even if it did not kill them for several more hours. 

It was either that, or this man was much stronger than he looked.

Against his will, Aziraphale felt his feet moving forward, advancing toward the man. He was a scrawny thing, likely no taller than Aziraphale when standing at his full height and much, much thinner. He wore only a long-sleeved black tunic and black trousers, stuffed into a pair of worn boots. Not exactly the type of clothing worn by soldiers. From what he could see, the Serpiente didn’t have any weapons on him either. It was possible they were hidden in the folds of his clothes, but somehow Aziraphale doubted it. Strange, to find a Serpiente this far from home, without any means of defending themselves.

Above him, the clouds parted and moonlight drifted down through the leaves above them, spilling dappled light onto the man’s face. 

He was not a man at all. He was just a boy, no older than thirteen or fourteen years old.

Aziraphale feel to his knees, his fear forgotten. He watched with wide, blue grey eyes as the serpent struggled for breath, his eyes shut tight, a strand of flaming red hair fallen across his pale face. This boy was _beautiful_ , in the most heartbreaking of ways. His face was all sharp angles and unmarred skin, but there was a certain softness to it, a warmth that was slowly beginning to fade from this world.

Suddenly, all his emotions came flooding back in. Tears sprung to his eyes and Aziraphale did not force them back down. He let them overflow in a choked back a sob as he gazed down on this beautifully terrifying creature. A boy whose life hung in the balance. A boy who he could do nothing to save.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered into the night, reaching out to brush his fingertips across the boys cheek. He did not react in anyway apart from the ragged rising and falling of his chest as he gasped for breath that would not come.

He was dying. Slowly, painfully, out here all alone.

Who was this boy? Why was he out here on his own? Did he have a family back home that was fearing the worst had happened to him? When he didn’t come home, who would come looking for him? Was there anyone left in his world that cared he was gone?

Aziraphale reached for him in that moment, gently pulling the arrow from the boy’s stomach before lowering him down until he was horizontal on the cool grass beneath them. There was no reaction. No cry of pain, no flutter of his eyelids. Nothing. Slowly, the Avian settled into a kneeling position, resting the serpent’s head on his lap, his red curls splaying out around him like a halo.

What did he do now? There was no point in talking to the serpent. He was unconscious, so it would hardly do any good. Did Aziraphale just sit here and wait in silence until the boy died? That hardly seemed right. He may be the enemy, but this boy was also an innocent. He wasn’t a soldier. He’d done nothing wrong.

He didn’t deserve to die like this.

The tears continued to spill down his cheeks, striking the grassy field below him. Not knowing what to do with his trembling hands, Aziraphale placed them lightly on top of the serpent’s head, gently stroking the strands of fiery curls as he fought to regain control over his breaths.

Aziraphale needed something calming, not for the boy who lay dying in his lap, but for himself, so he did not fall to pieces. Something that would focus his mind, ease his pain, if only for a little while.

The song rose up within him before he even realized he was singing it. He knew the tune like the back of his hand, the words by memory. This song had been one his mother used to sing to him every night as he’d fallen asleep all those years ago, before his heart had been broken into a million tiny pieces. Before he’d lost her and his father to the never-ending fighting.

_I wish to you sunshine, my dear one, my dear one_

_And treetops for you to soar past._

_I wish to you innocence, my child, my child_

_I pray you don’t grow up too fast._

_Never know pain, my dear one, my dear one_

_Nor hunger nor fear nor sorrow._

_Never know war, my child, my child_

_Remember your hope for tomorrow._

_My prayer is simple, my dear one, my dear one_

_May you never need understand_

_My prayer is for peacetime, my child, my child_

_Live it well, and this life can be grand._

Aziraphale sang that song over and over. He sang until his tears had dried and his throat was sore. He sang until his hands stopped shaking and his words grew more steady.

He sang until the sun began to peek over the horizon, bringing with it the hope of a new day. The boy’s breath had evened out sometime during the night as Aziraphale had sung to him and ran his fingers through the soft red curls. They were even more vibrant now underneath the morning light. Aziraphale had never seen anything like them before.

Avians had the predisposition for darker hair color, to reflect the coloring of their second form - black for ravens and crows, a mousy brown for sparrows and several other smaller birds. Even the hawks - the royalty in their culture - had lighter, honey brown hair. Out of everyone he knew, Aziraphale’s appearance was the most striking. Blue eyes were often a sign of the Serpiente, who were all born with eyes like gemstones. He had never seen a serpent’s gaze before, but Aziraphale had heard the stories, how an Avian could get lost in eyes as brilliant as those. Stunned into inaction, giving the serpents time to strike. 

What color eyes did this boy have? Certainly not garnet, the color of the Serpiente royal family. Perhaps a brilliant sapphire, or maybe emerald. Aziraphale’s song stopped as he looked at the boy’s face in the dawning light. Some color had returned to his cheeks, filling them with an endearing rosy color. 

Suddenly, the boy shifted. Aziraphale froze, watching with wide blue eyes as sunlight spilled over the trees behind him, casting a shadow across the boy’s face. In an instant, the Avian had shifted into his demi form, white wings splayed out behind him in case he needed to make a quick escape.

He only prayed they were still the only two here.

Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat as the boy’s eyes fluttered open. He watched as eyes the color of rich honey met his and the Avian finally understood the legends. He was trapped in that gaze, captivated by its beauty, unable to look away or flee or do anything to defend himself. He was completely at this boy’s mercy.

“‘M I dead? Are you…an angel…?” the boy murmured, closing his eyes against the bright sunlight as it shone above them. Aziraphale felt the spell over him break and he took his opportunity. 

In an instant he had slipped out from under the serpent’s head, transformed into his dove form and took to the skies without a second glance back, leaving the serpent boy behind to face his fate alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Three Years Later:** **(** **705 BCE)**

Aziraphale ducked, the sword slashing through the air above him with a soft ‘woosh’. He stumbled backward, bringing his own blade up to parry in the nick of time, wincing as metal clashed against metal. The sharp ringing sound reverberated around inside his head, making it hard for him to concentrate. Hard for him to decipher what he was supposed to do next.

Xavier was surely making him get his workout in today.

“Come on, Aziraphale,” the young prince taunted, a glimmer of amusement in his golden eyes. “You don’t have to hold back just because I’m royalty.”

The avian rolled his eyes, stepping back rapidly several paces to give himself space to think. “I disagree, Shardae” he retorted, using the prince’s formal title - the name given to all members of the royal family. A name that Xavier hated for him to use. “I have a feeling my Tuuli Thea would not approve of one of her most trusted guards injuring her only son.”

Xavier stuck his tongue out at Aziraphale, causing the avian to laugh out loud. Despite their three year age difference, the two men got along splendidly. At the age of eighteen, Aziraphale had been posted as Xavier’s personal guard and the two had been together practically every day since. 

If princes were allowed to be friends with their subordinates, Azriaphale would have said Xavier was his best friend. 

The prince grinned and Aziraphale felt his stomach leap in anticipation. He knew that look. That was the look of a man about to do something completely and utterly insane. 

“Xavier…” Aziraphale warned, raising his sword into a protective stance, his grey-blue eyes narrowing in concentration, instantly analyzing the younger man’s stance. The prince was an excellent fighter. He’d been training since he was old enough to walk and hold a wooden sword at the same time. But Aziraphale had been training just as long. It was his job to be the best of the best. It was his job to be better than Xavier, to protect him when all else failed.

The prince lunged forward, feinting to the left before diving right. Aziraphale rushed forward to meet him, blades clashing, smiles widening on both of their faces. 

“Now this is more like it,” Xavier teased, his golden brown hair fluttering in the breeze. Aziraphale rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics. Always eager to be in the center of the action. Always trying to push himself further, to be the best warrior and leader he could be.

A flutter of wings sounded from above, causing both men to look up. Aziraphale squinted against the bright spring sunlight as two avian figures lowered themselves to the ground, one donning a pair of feathery black wings, as dark as the night sky. Another, mottled brown and gold, the powerful form of a hawk.

Aziraphale and Xavier stopped their friendly bout and stood at attention as Andreios, the leader of the Royal flight, and Danica, princess and heir to the Tulli Thea throne transformed from their avian shape and took a moment to look around the arena. Aziraphale bowed his head in greeting, a grin spreading widely over his face as he took in Danica’s attire. 

She was dressed in a light blue flowing tunic and tanned pants, tucked into a pair of familiar looking worn boots. The young woman’s tangle of long golden brown hair had been pulled up into a high ponytail on the top of her head, the straggling pieces pinned back away from her eyes.

She was dressed for training.

From his position behind Aziraphale, Xavier groaned.

“Shardae,” Aziraphale greeted, meeting her gaze. Danica smiled, the smooth skin of her face crinkling around her golden eyes, the same pair of eyes every member of the royal family shared. 

“Aziraphale.” She nodded her head in formal greeting, but her voice was warm, welcoming. He’d spent enough time as Xavier’s personal guard to have formed a rather close relationship with his friend’s only remaining sibling.

“Shall we?” He asked her, flipping his sword around in his hand, catching it gracefully by the blade as he offered his princess the hilt. They were dulled blades, used for training only and not nearly sharp enough to cut either one of them, although they could leave quite a bruise depending on who wielded it. 

“Actually,” Danica began, walking toward him, turning her head to watch as Andreios walked across the courtyard, reaching up a hand to tie his thick black hair back away from his eyes. From this distance, they were difficult to make out, but Aziraphale could see a glimpse of the small black feathers growing at the nape of his neck, tangled within his hair. All Avians had them, just as surely as all the Serpiente had jeweled toned eyes and a gaze that could kill.

“I was hoping you and I could do a bit of hand to hand combat today.”

Aziraphale frowned, glancing over at Andreios. The crow did not turn around, but Aziraphale could tell by the downturn of his lips that he had heard them. Just as Aziraphale had been assigned to Xavier, Andreios was Danica’s guard. Along with his responsibility to train and maintain the Royal Flight, Andreios was also tasked with the important duty of protecting Danica Sharde at all costs.

It was a high burden for a twenty-two year old to bear, but the crow bore it well. Andreios was the best fighter Aziraphale had ever seen. He was quick and observant. Powerful when he needed to be but also deadly accurate. Andreios fought with a focus and precision unlike Aziraphale had ever seen. In his three years as a member of the Royal Flight, he had never come across anyone as skilled as the crow standing among them.

Xavier’s training session was about to get a lot more difficult.

When Andreios did not object to Danica’s request, Aziraphale inclined his head. “Of course, M’lady.” He returned to the nearest stone wall where a rack of practice weapons was currently hanging. Carefully, Aziraphale placed the sword back in its proper place and grabbed two of the practice daggers. These ones were metal as well, balanced as if they were a real weapon, but like the sword, they had been dulled to prevent injury.

Although the current Tuuli Thea, Danica’s mother Nacola, did not approve of her daughter learning to fight, she had not yet put a stop to it. Under Andreios’ watchful eye, the princess had progressed through the basics and onto more intermediate fighting techniques. She was nowhere near enough to beat any of the Royal Flight in a real match, but Danica was improving with each session. If she was ever caught in a dangerous situation, at least she wouldn’t be an easy target.

“No,” Danica began when Aziraphale went to hand her the dagger. He paused, bringing the blade back to his side, glancing at his princess with a frown. She smiled softly at him as she began to elaborate. “I want to work on disarming you. In case I ever find myself in a situation without a weapon.”

Aziraphale nodded in understanding. “Very well.” He slipped one of the daggers into the strap on his boot and began to twirl the other one in his hand, eyes never leaving Danica’s face. She gritted her teeth and readied her stance, legs out wide, arms up in preparation for a block. Good. She had remembered that much. 

“Turn around.”

Danica paused, a frown appearing on her face. Outside of this space, she was the one who gave all the orders. Here, she was under the direction of the Royal Flight. Danica trusted Aziraphale enough to do as he asked, but she was the type of person that liked to know why.

The dove smiled, taking a step forward so the pair could talk a bit more privately, but remaining far enough away to maintain a respectful distance.

“If you ever find yourself in a situation where you need to disarm someone,” Aziraphale began, meeting her golden gaze, “and you do not have a weapon of your own, the attack will not be announced. You must learn to react quickly, Shardae.”

Danica’s face contorted into a grimace, but she nodded her head in understanding. Still, Aziraphale did not look away. He knew how this type of training usually went, and there was one more thing he needed to clear with her first.

“I’m going to have to touch you, Danica,” Aziraphale explained quietly, looking for any sign of resistance. Any signal that this thought made her uncomfortable. “For you to get the most realistic experience. Will you allow me?”

Slowly, the princess nodded her head. In Avian society, physical contact was rare, and even then it was most often displayed in the comfort of an individual’s home. While they did happen, gentle touches between family members were few and far between. Contact between friends was even rarer and a touch between an Avian man and a lady that was not his pair bond was considered beyond indecent.

“Yes, Aziraphale.” Danica’s response was sound. “I wish to be prepared to defend myself. Do what you must.”

She turned around without him having to ask again. Aziraphale flipped the dagger in his hand a few more times, letting the blade settle into place before he rushed her.

The first time his arms slipped around her shoulders, Danica tried to break away. She was not weak for a woman, but Aziraphale was a trained fighter. He had been a soldier for almost five years now and trained constantly. No matter how determined she might be, Danica had no chance of forcing her way out of his grip.

“Don’t try to force yourself away, Shardae,” Aziraphale instructed as he raised a hand to bring the knife to her throat. She had lost this bout. “You may be fierce, but determination alone won’t win a fight. Use your opponent’s weaknesses to your advantage.”

Aziraphale released his grip and stepped back several paces. Danica shook her arms out, trying to relax them. She did not turn around to face him, instead choosing to ready herself for the next try.

This time, the dove came at her much quieter. He did not race toward her. He did not shout or slap his boots against the slate floor. Instead, Aziraphale crouched down to move lighter. He drifted from one side to another, back and forth, just outside of her peripheries. There was no sense in doing the exact same thing twice. Danica needed to learn how to expect the unexpected. This was the best way to teach her.

After he’d gotten close enough to touch her, Aziraphale reached out. The hand holding his weapon darted forward, dulled metal blade aiming straight for the space between her shoulder blades.

She ducked, taking Aziraphale by surprise. Danica practically dropped to the floor, sweeping her legs out toward him. The dove saw her motion in the nick of time, just managing to stumble backward out of the way. Before he had a moment to gather himself, she was back on her feet, stepping in close toward him, fist flying up toward his face. 

At the last moment, her arm took a different path, slamming into his wrist with enough force to make him wince in pain. A sharp, needle like sensation shot up his arm and Aziraphale dropped the knife, unable to hold onto it any longer.

Aziraphale grinned and Danica smiled back. It had been the right thing to do in that situation. She had done well, and he would have stopped to praise her for it, if she hadn’t forgotten one crucial detail.

With his free arm, Aziraphale reached out, grabbing onto her wrist and drawing her close to him so their chests were practically flushed. A swift movement of his head and the warmth of his breath on her neck was all Danica needed to feel to see her mistake.

In combat with the Serpiente, remaining within biting distance was a death sentence. The goal was to strike quickly, disarm, and retreat. 

Aziraphale released her. “That was quick thinking, Shardae. You unbalanced me, which is not an easy feat. You should be proud of the progress you are making. But you would do well not to forget your fundamentals.”

She nodded her head in understanding, taking a step back to reset and try again. Aziraphale smiled, shaking out his still tingling arm as he looked over at his future queen.

“Well done.”

* * *

He was dying. 

He was suffocating, drowning, bleeding out, frozen, burned alive all at once. The pain was excruciating, far beyond anything he had ever felt before. He wanted to cry out. To scream and wail and raise all manner of noises to the heavens so that maybe, _maybe,_ some of this agony would escape with the sound. How was he meant to survive this? How was he even still gasping for breath? He should have been dead long ago, and yet, here he was, still writhing on the ground, unable to move a muscle or open his eyes or raise a hand to end his own life.

How long would this torment last? How long did he have to flounder in this darkness, feeling like he was simultaneously plummeting through the sky and sinking down to the deepest depths of the ocean? All he wanted in the world was for the pain to go away. All he wanted was peace. All he wanted was…

...music.

_Yes._ There was music sounding somewhere far away. He could hear it, just at the edge of his consciousness. It was a hauntingly beautiful sound, a tune that he did not recognize. Words that he could not understand. He gravitated toward it, feeling it draw him in like a moth drawn to a flame. The sound grew louder as he drew closer and with each passing second, the pain in his body seemed to fade away. All around him, he could hear the song echoing, lodging itself into his very soul.

Even if he could still not understand the words as they echoed around him, he knew he would never forget this miraculous melody, as long as he lived.

Light erupted around him as his breathing finally steadied and he was able to open his eyes once more. It was morning and he was lying in a wide open field with the sun shining brightly overhead. There was a figure there, kneeling over him, fingers running through his hair softly, soothingly. The song was coming from lips he could not see as the sunlight blinded him once more. All he was able to catch a glimpse of was a shadowed covered face with brilliant, shining white curls atop the figure’s head and a pair of pristine white wings.

The wings of an angel.

He blinked once more and the figure was gone. He was left alone upon the battlefield, stomach aching, feeling like he was about to lose his lunch, but still very much alive.

He blinked again and he was staggering back inside the palace, several guards rushing to his side, helping to carry him to the infirmary.

He blinked a third time and he was sitting beside a beautiful woman with emerald eyes and platinum blonde hair, asking him a barrage of questions he did not know the answers to.

One final movement of his eyes and he was staring at the ceiling of the nest. Awake, alive, surrounded by half a dozen dozing bodies.

And completely alone.

Crowley shivered, despite the fact that the temperature was at least twenty degrees warmer in this room than it was outside. He turned over, trying to shake off the dream. Trying to shake off the phantom pain that still sometimes flittered about in his veins - a lingering gift from the poison he’d been shot with three years prior. 

By all accounts, he should be dead. The Serpiente doctors couldn’t explain it. Not when he’d dragged himself, half dead to their doorstep. Not after weeks of confinement to his bed. Not after half a million tests had been done. Crowley had been hit by an avian arrow and survived.

Barely, but he’d still done it. That had to count for something.

Blinking, Crowley allowed his eyes to focus. He was resting against several plush pillows, surrounded by half a dozen blankets and the soft breathing of some of the other dancers. The walls of sha’Mehay had been built to keep in the warmth - to shelter the Serpiente dancers as they ate and slept and danced and sang with each other. Crowley had been a part of this community his entire life. The solid, twisting walls made from leather and clay and ever-growing vines had been his home for as long as he’d understood what a home was. 

Slowly, the serpent released a breath of relief. He hadn’t woken anyone this time. Crowley had been haunted by these dreams almost since the day he’d returned to the palace. They didn’t come every night, but he experienced them often enough that the dancers he shared a room with knew the generic contents and had learned to sleep through his pained filled moaning.

It was always the same. Always the memory of the poison flooding through his veins, killing him slowly from the inside out. The melody that had pulled him out from the black void and back into the light. The soft hands of the figure cradling his head with the utmost care and compassion. The golden halo and broad white wings. Always there by his side when he woke. Always banishing the darkness and the pain. Always dragging him back away from the brink of nothingness.

He had been saved by an angel. Crowley should have died that night, but some heavenly force had intervened. Some beautiful, wonderful being had seen him in pain and had decided that his life was worth saving.

None of the others believed him. Not really. They said the poison had messed with his mind. That angels weren’t real. That the dreams were just part of Crowley dealing with the trauma. They were sympathetic. They entertained his belief that the angel did exist, that he _was_ real, but Crowley could see it in their eyes. They did not believe his story to be true.

Sighing, knowing that he would not be able to go back to sleep tonight, Crowley got to his feet. Slowly, silently, he picked his way across the room, stepping over half a dozen bodies between where he’d fallen asleep and the thick woven curtain that lead out into the main room.

There was no one around. The fire in the center of the room had burned to a layer of embers. Above him, the ceiling had been opened to reveal the brilliant night sky, thousands of bright stars twinkling above them. His hands were still shaking, but Crowley knew that would stop with time. He just needed a bit of space. A bit of space and a soft, familiar tune to calm his nerves.

All alone, the serpent sat outside on one of the balconies, under the winter’s brilliant sky. The air was chilly, but not cold, and as he sat cross legged on the slate floor suspended several feet above the ground, Crowley breathed it in deeply, letting it shock his lungs into submission. The serpent held his lyre gently in his lap and began to pluck at the strings, humming along to the tune that had captured his heart.

_This_ . This alone was proof that what he’d experienced was real. This song - the song that was forever etched into his very soul. How else would he have heard it? How else could he have known it? _Someone_ had been there beside him that night three years ago as he lay dying. Was it so wrong for him to want to believe they had stayed for him? That they had cared enough about him to ensure that he lived?

His hands stilled on the strings, the final note echoing in the air around him. Not for the first time, Crowley bowed his head and prayed. He prayed for peace as he slept. He prayed for relief from these dreams. He prayed for comfort as he sat out here alone, the chill of the night air finally beginning to seep into his very skin.

Mostly, he prayed that he might see his angel again some day. If only to thank him for the miracle he had brought into Crowley’s life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday everyone!
> 
> I'm having a lot of fun with this story so far, and I have a lot of good ideas I want to include as we go along. If you're reading this and enjoying it so far, I'd love to hear from you! And if you're a fan of Hawksong, I would love to hear the parts of the book/series you loved the most so I can do my best to represent the story and world properly.
> 
> I'm on vacation from now until Sunday, so hopefully I'll have the next chapter up for you guys by the end of the weekend.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I look forward to hearing what you think so far <3


	3. Chapter 3

**705 BCE - Summer**

The Namir-da was a dance performed every year during the Midsummer’s Night festival and witnessed by every member of the serpiente court. It was a dance that told the story of their people. It told of a story that began in ancient Egypt, when the first pyramids were being built with the sweat and blood of slavery. 

Legends stated that in those days, there were a set of thirteen men and women, the high priestess among them a woman named Maeve, who all worshiped the goddess Anhamirak. A goddess who ruled over life, light, love, beauty, and free will. 

A creature by the name Leben approached Maeve and instructed her and her people to turn away from Anhamirak and worship him instead. Maeve was a clever woman, and unwavering in her faith. She knew a fraud wen she saw one, and although Leben was no god, he was powerful.

She used that power to her advantage. Maeve seduced him, and in an attempt to gain her favor, Leben blessed her with ageless beauty and the second form of a white viper. To her followers, he also gave serpentine forms. To Brassal, the form of a python. To Danuta, the emerald boa. Tolandon and Nalini, black and red rat snakes. Donte the form of a taipan and Nikhil a mamba. 

And to Kiesha, he gave the form of the cobra. From her, all the Cobriana line are descended. From her come the familiar black scales and garnet eyes of the royal family. It only seemed fitting that the sacred dance be performed by one of them.

This year, Zane would take center stage. Since his brother Anjay’s death four years prior, he was first in line for the throne and would take his rightful place upon his choice of a mate. And as the Namir-da was Maeve’s dance, the dance of seduction, there was only one woman who would be by his side that night, in front of the whole court. 

Crowley had seen the Namir-da danced every year of his life. He had practiced the steps a thousand times in his own right, learning both the male and female parts. For the past several months, when she wasn’t on duty, it had been Crowley who had taught Zane’s partner, Adelina, the steps. Showing her how to sway her hips and elongate her neck. How to run her fingers through her long platinum hair so that it cascaded down her back like a waterfall. He showed her how to shift seamlessly from one move to the next, keeping her gaze fixed, not on the floor, but on the man she was attempting to capture with her enticing emerald eyes.

Adelina was a soldier, by nature, but she was also a serpent and a woman in love. She moved with elegance and grace and improved by leaps and bounds during each of their practices.

The day of the festival arrived and Crowley knew she was ready. Adelina thanked him with a bright smile and fierce hug before scurrying off to find her prince, leaving the serpent to find his way to the forum on his own - a wide open space attached to the palace that was accessible to all of the serpiente court. Most of the festivities would take place outside that day, until evening fell and all were invited into the synkal to watch Zane and Adelina perform.

When he arrived, Crowley saw that the space was already filled with thousands of bodies, weaving their way about, moving from one stand to the next. The air was filled with the scent of cooked meats and spices and perfumes of all sorts, and scattered throughout the crowd Crowley could see some of the dancers positioned on raised platforms, dancing for those around them, their souls on full display.

As he walked past one of these raised dais, Crowley felt the soft kiss of silken fabric against the exposed skin of his neck. He looked up and met the garnet gaze of a young man around his own age, with shoulder length black hair and a coy and flirtatious smile. 

“Dance with me,” Gregory Cobriana requested, sliding the crimson and gold scarf a few inches to one side, music from the tiny golden bells attached to either end drifting upward to Crowley’s ears. A  _ melos. _ Tradition stated that the melos was a gift one gave to a dancer, to show appreciation for their skills and as a request for a performance. 

Crowley’s amber eyes softened as Gregory tugged on the scarf, pulling the serpent closer. With a gentle sigh, he pulled himself up onto the platform, starting several paces away from Gregory, and began to dance.

This wasn’t the first time they had done this together. Gregory had been born a year after Crowley and had spent almost as much time in sha’Mehay, the dancer's nest, as he had training for the battlefield. Though he excelled with the sword, Gregory was at heart, a dancer. He moved like no other serpent Crowley had ever seen, apart from A’isha, the leader of the dancer’s nest. Watching the youngest child of the Cobriana line dance, it was more than just watching a serpent move. It was more than just listening to the heartbeat of the music and seeing how his footsteps timed perfectly with the pulsing rhythm. 

Watching Gregory Cobriana dance was like watching a soul reach its fullest potential. It was feeling every emotion ever felt by humankind, one after the other. It was allowing the music to reach ever hidden crevice of the heart and draw forth emotions unknown and unfelt until that very moment.

Dancing with him was unlike any experience Crowley had ever known.

They started out slowly, alternating steps to a different dance in the Namir-da. One that spoke of Leben’s gift to their people. It was traditionally performed by a collection of thirteen dancers, one to represent each of the original serpents apart from Maeve and one to take on the role of Leben himself. Over time, the dance had been adapted into a version for only two performers, to accommodate smaller stages such as this. One dancer to take on the role of Leben, the other, dancing to represent all the rest. 

Knowing which role Gregory would instinctively go for, Crowley immediately leapt into the steps of Leben’s dance, shifting around his companion in a wide circle as he bent and twisted and moved to the rhythm of the nearby flute and drum. He kept his amber gaze on his prince the entire time, watching with astonishment as the young man seemed to transform before his own eyes. Even though he had seen Gregory perform this dance a dozen times, seeing him take on each serpent’s role never ceased to take his breath away. Somehow, the prince was able to represent each of the twelve differently, with how he moved, how he held himself upon the stage, how his eyes glimmered and his lips smiled and his body thrummed with the beat of the music. Without saying a single word, he slipped from one character into another, seamlessly telling each of their stories to all who would listen.

A crowd quickly gathered around them, stopping to take in the sight of their prince dancing with his soul on display. Crowley continued to circle him, imagining what it must have been like back then. Imagining how the power must have pulsed through Leben’s body as he gifted one human after another with the second skin of a snake. He lost himself in the music and the motions and the intense garnet gaze that never once seemed to leave him.

All too soon, the dance came to an end. Crowley stepped in close to Gregory, wrapping his arm around the prince’s bare torso, drawing him in as Gregory faced him, their embrace representing Leben’s final gift of his power to the woman Kiesha - Gregory’s own Cobra ancestor. Their chests were heaving with the exertion of such a dance and as the final notes flittered about them, the young man opposite him leaned in to rest his forehead on Crowley’s, closing his eyes for a moment of reprieve.

The crowd cheered and neither men moved. Crowley watched with his heart in his chest as the youngest prince opened his eyes and smiled. Leaning in, Gregory brushed a soft kiss against Crowley’s cheek, then crossed over to place a second on the opposite side.

Before he could move away, the prince leaned in and pressed his lips against Crowley’s. Soft, chaste, sweet. A way to say ‘thank you’ as much as it was an invitation for more. 

Physical affection like this was not uncommon among the serpiente people, whether they be lovers or simply friends, nor was it uncommon between two men. Every day of their lives, they were encouraged to express their emotions to the fullest, whether they be feelings of joy or sorrow. Of rage or pain. Of frustration. Or of love. Holding back such emotion was akin to lying. Something all serpiente tried their best to avoid.

Crowley smiled politely as Gregory pulled back and broke the kiss. It hadn’t been an unpleasant sensation, nor had it been the first kiss the two had shared. Crowley didn’t have many close friends. It was hard to tell if Gregory counted as one. His place among royalty made it difficult to grow close to him. The pair hardly spoke outside of their dancing, but Gregory seemed to look down on Crowley fondly whenever they did interact. And though not many words had passed between the two, their dancing spoke more than words ever could.

“Still waiting on your angel, then?” Gregory asked softly, sensing Crowley’s hesitation. A blush began to make its way up his neck and onto the pale skin of his cheeks, causing the prince to laugh fondly. He clapped Crowley on the shoulders briefly before moving to the edge of the dais.

“For your sake, ak'varleah, I hope you find him.”  _ Ak'varleah. My dear. My friend. _

The slightly wistful tone in Gregory’s voice caught Crowley by surprise, but before he could stop to ask the prince what was wrong, Gregory Cobriana had leapt down and lost himself to the pulsing crowd below. 

* * *

Summertime was the best time to see the wildflowers in bloom. 

They had nearly two dozen different types in the royal gardens on the top floor of the Hawk’s Keep. It was an open area, with nearly two dozen benches to sit on, several winding paths to stroll down, and dozens of guards patrolling the area around it. There was no way for any non-avian to reach this place, as it was over a hundred feet in the air, but it never hurt to be too careful.

Aziraphale accompanied Xavier to the gardens on the afternoon of the summer solstice. His prince didn’t often come here, and when he did, it was usually to spend some time with Emelia, his pair bond. The dove was surprised to find Danica and Andreios waiting for them when they arrived instead. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have been.

Today marked nine years since their sister’s death. Nine years since the siblings had lost the first member of their immediate family. Their father had passed a few years later, but Mara had been the first loss. The first experience either one of them had that this war was  _ real _ . That it was deadly, and that it was never, ever going to end.

Mara had been everything a future Tuuli Thea should be. She was kind, compassionate, always composed. Mara thought with a level head and spoke with wisdom beyond her years. The people had adored her and she wanted nothing more than to care for them and protect them as any ruler should. 

She was a born leader. Refused to allow her people to do anything she would not do herself. Ultimately, her courageous heart had been her downfall.

Of course they would want to spend today, of all days, together. Of course Xavier and Danica would want some time alone to talk. Danica had been ten when Mara had died. Xavier only eight. He barely talked about his oldest sister. Barely remembered anything about her. A lot of what he did know of the late princess, Aziraphale had been the one to tell him.

He had been twelve when his princess had died. Twelve when all eyes in the kingdom had turned to Danica instead. With Mara gone, the Tulli Thea fell to the next oldest daughter of the avian royal family. Mara’s death had been what had inspired Aziraphale to become a member of the Royal Flight. He had seen what that tragedy had done to their people and vowed from that day forward to do everything in his power to keep it from happening ever again. 

“Do you ever think about her?” Xavier was asking Danica as they strolled down the path, surrounded on both sides by tiny orange buds, as vibrant as the setting sun. 

Aziraphale lingered behind them, walking pace for pace with Andreios. There were a dozen others of the Royal Flight drifting above them in the skies, wearing their second form of sharp beaks and dark feathers. Only the prince and princess’ closest guards remained with them on foot. Close enough to hear if they needed help, but far enough away that if Danica and Xavier wished to speak privately, all they needed to do was lower their voices.

“Every day,” Danica answered, without hesitation. “Most nights, too.”

The prince was silent a while longer as they took the next bend and passed under the shade of some tall leafy trees. Aziraphale breathed in the cooler air as shade overtook them and glanced around. Above them, the sun sat high in the sky, slowly making its descent back toward the horizon. The sky was a bright blue, almost the same color as his eyes, and was filled with wisps of clouds drifting by in the wind. It was the most perfect of summer days. The festival tonight was sure to be a wonderful time had by all.

“Do you ever think about how she might have lead our people?” Xavier was asking as Aziraphale tuned back in to their conversation. “And how you plan to be different?”

Danica was silent for a very long time. Aziraphale knew she had been training to become the next Tuuli Thea for the past nine years. He believed she would be a great one. Like her sister had been, Danica was strong-willed. She was kind and thoughtful and braver than many others he knew.

Unlike her sister, Danica was not afraid to let her feelings shine through. While many in their culture might see that as a weakness, Aziraphale saw her compassion as a strength.

“I try not to,” the princess responded softly, her voice barely reaching the edge of Aziraphale’s hearing. “I want to be judged by my own merits. Not what others think of how I compare to Mara. As much as we may hate it sometimes, she’s gone. She will never be Tuuli Thea. It’s up to me.”

Once again, they were silent. Aziraphale let his mind wander, keeping his blue eyes trained on the path before them. While danger here was not likely to come upon them, it was his duty to always be prepared. If things came down to it, it was Aziraphale’s duty to lay down his life for his prince and future queen.

“Do you think peace will ever be possible between our two people?”

All at once, Aziraphale’s stomach leapt into his throat. His mind was immediately filled with images of amber eyes and pale skin. Of a serpiente boy’s labored breaths as he lay dying. Of the way his thick hair caught fire in the sunlight. Three years had passed, and not a day went by where Aziraphale did not think of the boy. Not a day went by when he did not remember the feeling of the soft hair upon his fingertips or the way his heart had ached as the lullaby had left his lips, over and over again until the sun had pulled itself back up into the sky. 

Against his will, Aziraphale’s traitorous heart began beating faster against his chest. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks in a manner that was most un-avian like. There was no reason he should feel so embarrassed. So what if he had comforted a dying serpiente? They may be at war, but that boy had not been a soldier. He had done nothing to deserve the poison that had buried itself deep within his body. He had done nothing to deserve such a slow, agonizing death.

Aziraphale had no way to know what happened to the serpent after he’d left. The dove assumed the boy had died. Even though he’d looked much better as the sun had begun to rise, there was no way the serpent could have survived a wound like that. He knew, deep down in his heart, that nothing he had done that night could have allowed the serpent to survive. Aziraphale had sung him a song, nothing more. He had no magic with which to heal. No way to reverse the poison that had torn through the serpent’s body. Aziraphale had offered him comfort and peace in his final moments, and that was all. 

Still, that did not stop his heart from wishing. That did not stop his soul from mourning.

“I don’t know,” Danica finally answered as she and Xavier reached a bench near the edge of one of the lookouts and sat down side by side. From there, they could sit and look down upon the marketplace and all the avians bustling about below, preparing for the wondrous celebration that would take place later that night. Slowly, Aziraphale watched as Danica turned and smiled at her younger brother, reaching out with her shining, golden eyes in a way that was more intimate and comforting than the soft touch of her fingers against the back of his hand.

“I don’t know if peace is possible, Xavier, but I have hope that it is. I have hope that, someday, both our people will finally be able to live without fear.”

A pause. An exchange of smiles. A moment of peace passing through brother and sister. 

"I will do whatever I can as Tuuli Thea to make that future possible. For the both of us. And for our kingdom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one had a decent bit of lore attached to it. For those who haven't read Hawksong, I hope it was interesting to learn about. For those that have, I hope you still enjoyed it. I tried to elaborate on the book's original details as much as possible and made a few things up on my own as best I could :)
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone that has read and commented so far. I am so happy that you've found this story and are willing to give it a try! I hope you continue to enjoy it as we get deeper into the story!
> 
> The next chapter will take place where Hawksong begins. So, buckle your seat belts. The ride is about to get a bit bumpy.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated <3 I'll try to get the next chapter out to you all by Sunday!


	4. Chapter 4

People said winter was the cruelest season of the entire year. Aziraphale had never understood that sentiment until this moment. He had never understood how the chill in the air could cut through a person’s skin and sink its teeth directly into their very soul until now. Until the night he stood atop Mourner’s Rock and watched as the funeral pyre reached upward toward the heavens, devouring Xavier Shardae’s body like it was little more than a pile of kindling.

Although the blaze of the fire lit up the area around them and the several dozen avians that stood near to pay their respects, Aziraphale could not feel its warmth. He could feel nothing inside him except for the dull ache in his heart and the stab of pain in his throat as he fought to hold back his tears. 

This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. 

How had this happened?

Aziraphale knew how. Xavier Shardae was dead because he hadn’t been willing to wait. Xavier Shardae was dead because he’d heard word of a skirmish in the middle of the night and had demanded the guard on duty to take him and several others to their people’s defense. Xavier Shardae was dead because Aziraphale had been asleep. He’d been off duty and when his prince had left, Xavier had not come to wake him. Aziraphale had been unable to do anything to save his best friend.

Xavier Shardae was dead because a Cobriana prince had sliced him open on the battlefield.

One by one, the avians flew away. As each minute ticked by and the sun fell closer to the horizon, Aziraphale could hear the soft flutter of wings as those who were here to mourn shifted into their second, avian skin, and returned to the Hawk’s Keep. Once again, Aziraphale wanted to transform and fly far away. He wanted to land out somewhere in the middle of the battlefield and scream until he had no more voice to scream with. He wanted to throw himself to the ground and cry until he had no more tears left to shed. He wanted to fly away from this place and never come back.

He couldn’t. Aziraphale was still a member of the Royal Flight. One of their very best fighters. And there were still two Shardae women that needed protection. Now, more than ever. Aziraphale had to stay, despite the fact that doing so might destroy what little of his soul he had left. 

Aziraphale inhaled softly and turned to look at Danica and her mother. They were standing side by side, up closer to the pyre. The fire had gone down significantly, but the glow of the embers was still bright enough to illuminate their faces. As expected, Nacola Shardae’s expression was one of complete stoicism. She did not let a single emotion shine through her golden eyes as the Tuuli Thea stood at attention, her hands clasped firmly in front of her body.

Danica was another story altogether. She was trying, Aziraphale _knew_ she was trying, but even from a distance, he could still see the slight quiver of her jaw. The subtle shake of her hands, even though they, too, were clasped tightly in front of her. Danica was just barely holding herself together, struggling against the avian reserve that was expected of her, as she stared unblinkingly unto the dying embers below her. The last light of her brother’s life quickly beginning to fade.

A soft sound beside him caught Aziraphale’s attention. He turned to see Andreios standing at attention, brown eyes fixed on Danica and the current Tulli Thea. Even though the crow was not looking in his direction, Aziraphale knew Andreios had been the one to catch his attention. He could see by the brief flick of the man’s wrist what he was trying to say.

_It is time for you to leave. Let mother and daughter grieve in peace._

Reflexively, Aziraphale’s jaw clenched. Who was he to tell Aziraphale when to stop grieving? Yes, Andreios may have lost a prince that day, but Aziraphale had lost his friend. One of the precious few he had left in this world. He should be allowed to take all the time he needed.

Then, as Aziraphale glanced over at Danica one more time, his blue eyes softened. He should have known Andreios would only ask him to leave this place for Danica’s sake. It was no secret that the crow cared for her, more than any normal guard would. They had been childhood friends and Andreios had saved Danica’s life on more than one occasion. He loved her. That much was more than obvious. In her moment of grief, Andreios was doing what little he could do to offer her comfort. She was expected to stay here until the last avian had left. The sooner that happened, the sooner Danica would be free to mourn the way she needed to.

Instead of returning home right away, Aziraphale flew down to the Market, located on the first floor of the keep. It was a place for all avians to gather together during the day, to trade wares and stories and all manners of company. After the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, the shops closed and those who remained gathered on the second floor, nearly fifteen feet above the first, and sat at tables by the fire to spend time communing with one another.

Aziraphale didn’t want to commune. He didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone, so he picked a seat toward the outer edge of the room, choosing to sit back and listen to the conversations around him.

Most of them were about Xavier. Subjects reminiscing about their fallen prince. Telling stories of when he was a young boy. Some of them spoke of Danica and her upcoming ceremony. In just a few weeks, she would stand before the entire kingdom and make her vows as the new Tuuli Thea. Traditionally, this ceremony occurred when the eldest royal daughter gave birth to her first child, but Nacola had decided to pass along the crown early. Danica’s Alistair had passed away several years ago and she’d yet to choose another. She would take the throne without a child, and potentially without a mate if she did not choose one by her coronation day.

It was one such conversation that caught Aziraphale’s attention. Three avian men were seated around a nearby table, speaking in hushed voices as they leaned in toward each other. From his position, Aziraphale could barely make out what they were saying, but if he closed his eyes and trained his ears, the sounds came in clear enough.

“Well, she’d better choose one soon,” the older one gruffed, taking a swig of his ale before placing it back down on the table. “Shardae is the last of the royal bloodline. She needs to provide us with some heirs, before it is too late.”

“Oh, hush, you,” one of the other men replied. A sparrow, likely in his upper thirties. “Let the girl choose her family on her own time. You can’t rush into these things. Besides, Lady Nacola may be getting on in years, but she is no crone. Were she to choose another mate, she could still have another daughter.”

“Danica is the future of our kingdom,” the third one pointed out. “Shouldn’t she be focusing on choosing her Alistair and settling into her role as our queen? Not…galivanting around the battlefields, singing and weeping over enemy soldiers?”

As surprising as that revelation had been, that statement about Danica was true. Aziraphale knew because she’d told him about it when she’d returned from the fields, her guards carrying Xavier’s body balanced on their shoulders. She told him as they’d sat and talked while the funeral pyre was being built. She told him as she cried into his shoulder, away from the prying eyes of the rest of their court.

Danica had knelt by Gregory Cobriana’s side as he lay dying. Just as Aziraphale had knelt by his serpent’s side all those years ago, for the same reason. While their intentions may have been good, that was all they were. Intentions. They were soft songs of promises for a better tomorrow. Empty promises that they had no way of making come true. Comforting an enemy in death may be seen as foolish. It may be seen as noble. But it did nothing to stop the war.

It did nothing to bring their loved ones back.

* * *

The Serpiente people did not have public funerals, they had celebrations of life. Mourning those who had died was done in private, with close family and friends. When the community gathered together after someone’s death, they sang songs and danced and feasted together under the starry sky, surrounded by thousands upon thousands of candles.

Crowley was in no mood to eat or drink or dance or be merry. Yes, he was sad that Gregory had been killed earlier that day, but there was something else on his mind. Something deeply unsettling that rose to the surface of his thoughts each and every time Zane Cobriana caught his eye throughout the evening. 

Zane was the last of their princes alive. He was the sole heir to the serpiente throne and everyone knew it. If this war took Zane from them, their people would be left without a Diente, without a king. Only male children from the Cobriana like could take such a title. Even though Charis was queen now, she was only queen by marriage. As soon as Zane took his mate, he would take his place as their leader.

If he died, all would be lost.

There was a certain air of desperation hovering underneath all the festive music. As the night wore on, Crowley could feel himself becoming more and more nervous. The jovial voices around him began to blend together in a murky thrum that the serpent easily tuned out. Crowley was in no mood to converse with anyone. In fact, he’d had just about enough of this celebration. It was time to get up and go home.

“I still can’t believe it,” a voice behind him was murmuring. Crowley opened his eyes, blinking several times to try and clear the weariness from his heart. “ _Danica Shardae_ , sitting by his side as he lay dying. I heard she was singing to him. Crying over him. What kind of person weeps for her enemy?”

“What do you think it means?”

A third serpent scoffed. “It can’t be true. The avians are soulless, everyone knows that. She probably couldn’t even cry if she wanted to.”

Crowley froze. What had they just said? That the princess and heir to the avian throne had sat by Gregory’s side as he died? That she had sung to him? Comforted him all afternoon?

Impossible.

Or was it?

Immediately, Crowley’s eyes flashed upward to where the royal family sat. Irene was still at the table, deep in conversation with one of the guards. Charis and Zane were nowhere to be found.

It was likely Zane had retreated to one of the rooms in his private chambers to mourn alone, or with a small group of close friends. If that were the case, Crowley would likely not be permitted to see him. It wasn’t like the need was urgent. Nothing was going to change between now and the following afternoon, and yet – and yet the serpent could not shake the feeling of desperation and dread that had wormed its way into his heart. He was scared. Scared for his kingdom and the future that might befall it now that Zane was all that was left.

He knew of only one thing that might be able to calm his fears.

With more confidence than he had the right to possess, Crowley strode into the palace. He made it down exactly two hallways before he was stopped by a pair of platinum blonde guards standing on either side of an ornate wooden door.

“Turn back around, Crowley,” Adelina warned, her voice rough with emotion. “He isn’t ready for consolations. Come back again tomorrow.”

“No,” Crowley protested, trying to ignore the spark of fear her emerald gaze sent shooting down his spine. “You misunderstand. I need to speak with Zane. About the avians. It’s of the utmost importance.”

Adelina narrowed her eyes, taking a step toward him, daring him to come a step closer when a voice echoed out from the door behind them.

“Let him in.”

The total command in Zane’s voice caused both Adelina and Ailbhe to stiffen in shock. For a moment, Crowley was sure Adelina was going to protest, but she simply clenched her jaw and stood to the side, allowing Crowley access to the prince’s chambers.

“Crowley.”

The greeting was much warmer than the serpent would have expected Zane to give him. He was surprised to find the man even knew his name at all. As far as he knew, this was the first time he’d ever interacted with the older man. Unlike his brother, Zane did not make a habit of visiting the dancer’s nest often, and when he did, Crowley always seemed to be busy.

Zane was sitting off to the side of the room, on a raised platform adorned with several plush pillows. From his seated position, he was approximately Crowley’s height, and gazed over at him with bright garnet eyes. Sorrow rolled off him in waves, filling the room around him and the hearts of all who entered, including Crowley’s

“How are you?” The serpent prince asked softly, catching Crowley off guard. He hadn’t expected such tenderness from the man. Especially toward one of his subjects he barely knew.

“Fine, I suppose,” Crowley responded, feeling like his mind was beginning to unravel strand by strand. There was something he’d come here to discuss. Something about avians and dying soldiers on the battlefield.

His prince beckoned him closer. Crowley obliged. “You don’t have to hide yourself with me, Crowley. I may not know the exact nature of your relationship with my brother, but I know you meant a great deal to Gregory.” He paused as a tear rolled down his cheek. “You must miss him very much.”

“I do,” Crowley answered automatically, his mind still trying to formulate what to say. “But, sir, I did not come here to join you in mourning. I realized something tonight, about the avians. And I felt that you should know. As our future Diente, the responsibility for this war will soon fall to you.”

“Oh?” Zane asked, leaning back against his pillows, waiting for his subject to continue.

“Is it true?” Crowley asked, heart hammering away in his chest. He still couldn’t believe what he’d heard in the marketplace earlier that evening. If the avian princess really had stopped to comfort Gregory as he lay dying, if she had sung to him in an attempt to bring him comfort - that changed absolutely _everything._ “Did Danica Shardae stay by Gregory’s side as he -” 

The last word caught in his throat as emotion threatened to overwhelm him. Zane’s expression softened and he reached out a hand to gently squeeze Crowley’s shoulder in comfort. 

“Yes,” his answer was brief, but Crowley sensed there was more to come. “I’ve heard confirmation from several of my guards. She sat by his side all day, singing to him.”

Crowley felt the world around him shift beneath his feet. It was a miracle he didn’t fall flat on his face. Danica Shardae, heir to the avian throne, had knelt in the blood-soaked fields and sung about peace to her enemy as he lay dying. It was a scene all-too familiar to Crowley. A scene that, until this exact moment, he had always suspected was a dying boy’s fever induced dream.

Now, he was almost sure it wasn’t.

“Crowley?” Zane was asking him when he came around again. The future king was looking down at him with concern in is garnet eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yes,” the serpent stuttered, trying to get a handle on his thoughts. If what Zane said was true, then why couldn’t the angel he saw have been avian too? There was no reason why he couldn’t be, except for the pair of white wings. Did avians have white wings? Crowley was almost sure they didn’t, but what did he know? He’d never fought in battle before. He’d never really seen one up close - not even when he’d been shot by one of their arrows. 

Sure, perhaps most avians had darker colored forms. Those of Ravens and Crows and Sparrows, but that didn’t mean _none_ of them where white. Just as most serpents had darker forms, there were still a handful of white vipers in the serpiente palace. Adelina and Ailbhe were proof of that very fact. Was it possible that the avians also had their rare forms? And that one of those forms had the wings of an angel?

Crowley saw Zane opening his mouth again, likely to ask if he was sure he was alright. Before the prince was able to get a word in edgewise, the serpent found himself speaking.

“Do you think that means they want peace?”

He didn’t know where the words came from, but they tumbled out all the same. Crowley felt like he was about to pass out. His angel was _real_. His angel was avian – an avian man who had saved his life. Why? What reason would this stranger have had to do such a thing?

Zane frowned, then shook his head solemnly. “I cannot base the desires of a nation on the actions of one person. Even if she is to be their queen.”

From the corner of his eyes, Crowley saw Zane’s hand begin to rise, as if he was about to wave Crowley off. Panic inexplicably seized at his chest for a moment, and Crowley found himself practically yelling, the words rushing out from him all at once.

“She’s not the only one!”

Zane froze, a soft frown appearing on his face.

“Pardon?” he asked, hand lowering back down to his lap.

Taking a deep breath, Crowley continued. “Danica isn’t the only one who has sung a dying man to sleep. She’s not the only one who has knelt in the bloody aftermath of a battle and comforted her enemy.”

When Zane did not hold up a hand to stop him, Crowley figured it was acceptable to continue his story.

“Three years ago,” he began, trying to ignore the way his throat tightened around the words. The way his heart pounded in his chest. “I strayed too far from the nest. I was young, and _stupid_ , and didn’t realize where I was until it was too late. I was shot by an avian soldier. Left to die on the field alone, the poison slowly working its way to my heart.”

Zane nodded. He, like all the others, knew this story. It wasn’t every day that a member of the serpiente court was poisoned and lived to tell the tale. As far as he knew, Crowley was the only one who had achieved such a feat.

“When I woke up that next morning, there was a man kneeling beside me.” Crowley paused, licking his dry lips as he tried to look anywhere but up at his prince’s garnet eyes. Despite all his best efforts, he could not look away. “For the longest time, I thought he was an angel. Some kind of heavenly spirit that was sent to Earth to save me. I didn’t understand how else I could have survived the way I did.”

“And now?” Zane asked, the glint in his eyes telling Crowley that he was engaged in the story. Curious, to see where it might go.

“I believe he could be avian,” Crowley admitted, clenching his sweating hands by his side. Why was this making him so nervous? He had done nothing wrong that night. The avian man had approached him. Had saved _him._ Crowley could hardly be blamed for that, could he? “I believe the chances are very high that he is. Which means, Danica isn’t the only one who wants peace between our people.”

What other reason would an avian have to save a serpent? What other reason would a princess waste away an afternoon singing to her enemy? Hadn’t this war gone on long enough?

“We are all tired of this war, sir. They’ve been fighting it just as long as we have. I have faith that means they are tired of the fighting too.”

Zane was silent for a very long time, so long that Crowley worried the prince had forgotten he was here. Eventually, he rose from his cushioned seat and turned toward the door, his face a stoic mask that made the room feel ten degrees colder.

“Adelina, Ailbhe.”

The two vipers were inside the room in an instant. Crowley watched as Adelina’s eyes went immediately to her prince, sliding over his own form in an instant. Neither one of them spoke, recognizing Zane’s demeanor as one of their crowned prince, and not of a friend.

“Fetch Irene and my mother,” the prince commanded, his face strangely betraying no emotions. “There is something the three of us must discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little later than I originally guessed, but I got it done. We are now officially caught up to the beginning of Hawksong. And only one (or two, depending on how long the next one ends up being) more chapters until Aziraphale and Crowley meet!
> 
> A big thanks to all of you who have commented so far and continue to comment as I'm posting. It really helps me to stay motivated to write this story :)


	5. Chapter 5

_ “She’s planning on announcing her Alistair at the ceremony, isn’t she?” _

_ “Of course she is, you birdbrain. What reason would she have to hold back any longer? Shardae will be Tuuli Thea by the time the day is done. She’ll want somebody to stand there by her side.” _

_ “Who do you think it will be?” _

_ “Is there any question? We all know Andreios is the one she will choose.” _

Aziraphale stood at attention, trying to ignore the whispering voices of the court gathered behind him. The day had finally come, Danica’s coronation. In just over an hour, the remaining princess of the avian kingdom would take her place as Tuli Thea and lead them in to a new era. 

For a short while, Aziraphale had cautiously hoped it would be an era of peace. Several weeks ago, the Hawks Keep had been approached by a representative from the Serpiente kingdom - Irene Cobriana, herself. Princess of the serpents and younger sister to Zane, their future king. She had come promising talks of peace. She had come requesting an audience with Danica and her mother, Nacola and to his surprise, Danica had accepted. Both Shardae women, accompanied by their guards, had traveled north to the Mistari lands for peace negotiations.

The Mistari were a race of tiger shapeshifters that lived in neutral territory. They were a fierce people, with deeply rooted customs and traditions. They were a highly respected people, the perfect ones to negotiate talks of peace. Violence of any kind would not be tolerated on their sacred grounds. 

Aziraphale had not been permitted to go on the journey. Andreios had forced him to take some time for himself after Xavier’s death and the avian had begrudgingly obeyed. He had been disappointed, but not surprised when his princess and Tuuli Thea had returned without a solution. Andreios had not briefed any of his soldiers on what had transpired while they were away, but it had not taken Aziraphale long to piece together the information he needed.

The Mistari Disa, leader of the tiger shapeshifters, had made a radical suggestion on how to end the war. According to every member of the avian court that bothered to voice an opinion, the thought that their princess would take the monstrous Zane Cobriana as her mate was not only impossible, but also an insult to her dignity. Even if such an act would end the age-long fighting between their two kingdoms.

It was no wonder Nacola Shardae left after a single day of discussion after how Zane had acted. Sharing a kiss with Danica was scandalous at best, but to do so in full view of the Royal Flight was asking for trouble. Avian women did not go around kissing men in public - certainly not men that were not her betrothed. Aziraphale completely understood his Queen’s decision to return home, even if the action meant their chance at peace was quickly fading.

Soon enough, it would be Danica’s turn to call the shots. As Aziraphale gazed up at her, standing proud and strong on the raised dias beside her mother, he wondered just what kind of a queen she would be.

All muttering ceased the moment Nacola Shardae stepped forward and raised her hand. Every eye in the courtyard turned toward her as she began to address them. Aziraphale listened patiently as his current queen spoke to them. Her words were filled with proclamations of strength and courage in the face of adversity. She spoke to them about trust in herself and in Danica as their new leader. Most of all, she spoke about faith, and the hope for a brighter future. A future that was now in the hands of her eldest living daughter.

Aziraphale watched as his current Queen finished her speech and turned to face her daughter. Danica remained motionless on the dias, her face still and composed as Nacola softly removed a pendant dangling from a long gold chain. From his position on the side of the stage, Aziraphale could barely make out its details, but he didn’t need to see it now to know what the necklace was. It was the symbol of their people. The golden hawk, flying with its wings outstretched. Danica would wear it now, just as Nacola had worn it, until the time came to pass the token along to her eldest daughter. It was the birthright of each Tuuli Thea, and as Danica turned to accept the pendant, she was stepping into her place in their world. She was taking on the mantle of Tuuli Thea. She would be their queen from this moment forward.

“Thank you all for coming,” Danica began as her mother stepped to the side. Aziraphale breathed in deep, forcing himself to remain calm as his gaze fell upon the empty spot next to Nacola where Xavier should have been. “For the past nine years, I have been preparing for this day. Ever since the war took my sister from us, I have known that someday I would be expected to take my place as your Tuuli Thea.”

Aziraphale watched as his new queen drew in a shaky breath, drawing on every last bit of Avian reserve she had. Out of all the people gathered before her, Danica’s eyes fell upon his own. She kept her gaze fixed on Aziraphale as she continued.

“I only hope that your trust in me is well-placed. I will do all in my power to be the leader you deserve. I promise to do my best to keep you safe and work toward a peaceful future for us all.”

She then waved a hand toward the first of the Royal Flight, summoning the man to stand before her and recite his vows. A soft ripple of surprise washed over the crowd. Danica had said nothing about her Alistair, a revelation they had all been expecting. Why had she not chosen a mate yet? They all knew Andreios would be the one fulfilling the role. The pair had been best friends for years, and it was obvious the crow’s loyalty to her was unquestionable. Who else could she possibly choose?

Aziraphale banished those thoughts from his mind the moment Danica’s eyes found his again. Now was not the time to be wondering such things. He trusted his queen and friend to do what was best for them all. If she felt that waiting to reveal her Alistair was what needed to be done, he would support her wholeheartedly.

“Aziraphale Paloma” the avian announced as he fell to one knee. He reached forward and took Danica’s hand, offering her a small, supportive smile that would be seen by no one else. The edge of her lips quirked up for a brief second and he knew she had understood. “To my Tuuli Thea goes my faith and trust,” Aziraphale announced, his blue eyes never once leaving Danica’s face. “To her blood goes my blade, my bow, and my fist, ever to defend her and her kin. To her I swear my loyalty, and to her I swear my life, ever before hers.”

As Aziraphale finished his vows, he bowed his head, touching the back of her bare hand to his forehead in the lightest of contacts. His heart fluttered in his chest as the avian felt Danica’s hand squeeze his reassuringly and an overwhelming surge of emotion flooded his chest. He had lost so much in his relatively short lifetime. Danica Shardae was all he had left in the world and Aziraphale had sworn to protect her with his life, from this moment forward. And that was exactly what he planned to do.

He had also given his faith and trust to her. The very first of the vows he had made. And so, when he spotted Danica’s hawk form taking off from the higher floors of the keep and rising up into the next day’s dawn-filled sky, Aziraphale did nothing. Although she had been expected to announce her mate during the ceremony, Danica had not. And now, she was leaving the safety of her home without a single of the Royal Flight in sight. 

Danica was up to something, and Aziraphale had a sinking suspicion he knew what it was. He stood by his bedroom window, watching with a creased brow as her form grew smaller and smaller, warring with himself over what to do. Aziraphale had vowed to protect Danica from all harm. He had also vowed to trust her completely, even when he did not understand. What should he do in a situation like this? Should he let her go, believing she was doing what was best for her people? Or should he follow her, prepared to lay down his own life should the need arise?

Ultimately, he decided to act on faith. He decided to trust Danica, as he had trusted her brother. And as Aziraphale settled down into his bed, knowing sleep would not find him this day, he prayed that the serpiente’s desire for peace was real and that his queen would return to him safe and sound.

* * *

Crowley joined his fellow serpents in the synkal at mid-morning, anxiously awaiting the moment when the ceremony would start. It had been unexpected, this declaration that Zane would be announcing his choice of Naga. Like many of the members of the serpiente court, Crowley had expected his prince would choose Adelina to be his mate. 

So, when the members of the court had been gathered together and Crowley had spotted Adelina clothed in her usual uniform, standing at attention with the others, he knew something was about to happen. Something important. Something that would change everything.

“My friends,” Zane Cobriana began as he stepped forward from behind the red velvet curtain and onto the dias on the north side of the synkal. “My subjects. I know you have long awaited this day. In the past, I have been hesitant to declare a mate. To do so would only be inviting danger into the life of the woman I love.” He paused, garnet eyes sweeping across the crowd. “With the death of my younger brother, I am the last remaining heir to the serpiente throne. It is time for me to take my place as your Diente. It is time for you all to meet my Beloved. The woman I choose to rule beside me, from this day forward.”

Crowley watched, his lungs momentarily forgetting to breathe. Who could it be? If not Adelina, who held enough of Zane’s heart in her hands that he would declare his love for her before all of them gathered here? Crowley could not think of a single person, but perhaps there was a reason for that. Perhaps Zane had kept their relationship secret as long as he could, to keep her safe.

The velvet curtain shimmered and a young woman stepped forward onto the dias to join the prince. She was dressed in a burgundy silken dress with intricate golden embroidery around the edges. Her long golden hair was pinned up in several places, allowing the curls to cascade down the left side of her body. All eyes in the room watched as she gracefully stepped forward and wrapped her arm around Zane’s waist causing him to look down at her and smile. Crowley watched as she hesitantly smiled back, before turning her gaze out toward the rest of them. A gaze made of bright eyes the color of molten gold.

Avian eyes. The eyes of a hawk. 

Crowley froze as all sound in the room momentarily ceased. He didn’t need an introduction to know who this woman was. Tall, slender, with honey colored hair and warm golden eyes. Everyone in the synkal knew who had just stepped forward to join them.

“Allow me to introduce my Naga, Danica Shardae.”

Immediately, several of the guards throughout the room fell to their knees, bowing their heads in acceptance and respect. Those serpent surrounding them followed suit, creating a ripple effect throughout the entire room.

Crowley did not fall to his knees, not right away. His inaction was not due to any objection to Zane’s choice. Who was he to judge the contents of his king’s heart? If Zane claimed he loved this avian woman, Crowley believed him. 

No, Crowley had remained standing for one simple reason. At the sight of Danica Shardae standing arm in arm with his Diente, Crowley’s mind had been rendered completely incapable of all thoughts except for one.

_ The Avians and Serpiente are uniting. This is my chance to find him. To find my angel. _

Never in his wildest dreams did Crowley imagine this outcome. A world where Zane and Danica chose each other as mates was a world with no fighting. It was a world with no more killing, no more fear of being shot down. It was a world where a serpent dancer could travel to the Hawk’s Keep and meet the avian subjects. A world where Crowley could find the white-winged avian that had brought him back from the brink of death.

“Kendrick?” Zane’s voice cut through Crowley’s thoughts, even though he could barely hear the words over the intense thudding of his heart. 

“I don’t know what…” the other man began as he looked around the room. Crowley followed his gaze and saw to his horror, all but four of them were on the ground, kneeling before their new king. Heart in his throat, the red-haired serpent immediately fell to the floor, bowing his head and averting his gaze as he listened to the rest of the conversation.

“She’s a hawk…”

“Really?” Crowley was unable to see Zane’s face, but the tone of his voice almost sounded amused. 

“But sir,” the serpent protested again, “she’s Danica Shardae.”

“I just said that.” Crowley could practically hear his Diente’s eyes rolling. There was silence for a while, and the red-haired man chanced a quick glance up. He watched with glistening amber eyes as the avian woman leaned in closer to the man beside her, murmuring something in his ear too quiet for those gathered around to hear. 

Then, before turning back to them, Zane leaned down and brushed a soft kiss against the woman’s lips. Crowley felt heat entering his cheeks, although he could not explain why. He was still reeling from the realization that finding his angel might actually be a real possibility now. Crowley could barely think about anything else as Zane turned back to the serpent that still stood before him. 

“Kendrick,” he addressed the man, amusement still tingeing his voice. “There is no need for jealousy. You are welcome to go out and find your own beautiful hawk.”

Images of the white haired avian filled Crowley’s mind and he almost passed out. What was happening to him? His heart was racing faster than an avian’s and he was sure the color of his face now closely matched that of his hair. He felt his breaths rushing in shallow gasps through his lungs as Crowley’s imagination began to run away from him.

The rest of the interaction between Zane and his people was lost to Crowley as he struggled to get his thoughts under control. By the time he banished the images of soft hands in his hair and warm lips against his own, Zane and Danica were stepping down from the dias to walk among them. As a whole, the serpiente people rose to their feet and surged forward to greet their king and his new mate.

Crowley hung around for a while, waiting until most of the crowd had thinned out before making eye contact with his Diente. When Zane spotted Crowley, a spark of warmth lit up his garnet eyes and he walked Danica slowly over to him.

“Crowley,” his king greeted warmly as the red-haired serpent stood before the new couple. His mouth had gone dry and he was barely able to keep his eyes focused on the couple standing before him. He felt like he was going to pass out, heart beating so rapidly inside his chest, the serpent was surprised it hadn't exploded with the force. The avian princess was standing right here before him. She was the key to finding his angel. She might actually _know_ the exact individual Crowley was looking for. All he had to do was ask.

And then what? Crowley's eyes were wide as panic crept into the outer edges of his mind. What was he thinking? He wasn't ready for this. He had absolutely no proof that this angel of his was even still alive, or that he _wanted_ to see Crowley again. Why would he? Just because he had knelt by a dying serpent one night didn't mean he felt anything for Crowley other than a sliver of passing sympathy.

A soft hand on his shoulder brought Crowley back to reality. He turned his head away from Danica and met Zane’s eyes. The soft look within them reminded him of another young man, with hair the same shade as Zane's, although much longer, and a smile that always brought a glimmer of warmth to Crowley’s heart.

“Thank you, My Lady,” he addressed Danica, speaking softly and not moving to touch her as he’d seen several others attempt to do. “For the kindness you showed to Gregory Cobriana. I am grateful you eased his passing into the next life as much as you could.”

For the briefest seconds, Crowley saw a glimmer of sorrow and empathy light up her face. The next moment, it was gone and the serpent felt his stomach clench unpleasantly as he looked up at the woman’s beautiful face. It looked blank now, soulless and empty and for the first time, Crowley wondered what in the Heavens Zane had gotten himself into. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for the delay everyone! After Thanksgiving, I had finals to deal with and then I got really sick for a while, so I wasn't able to write as much as I wanted. I'm finally back to normal and cannot wait to get working on this story some more.
> 
> For those of you who celebrate, Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Crowley and Aziraphale should (finally) be meeting each other (briefly) in the next chapter. So stay tuned!


	6. Chapter 6

He was standing in a field. That came as no surprise to Aziraphale. He was always in a field when these sort of dreams came. It wasn’t always the same location. At first, the avian thought it had to be. How else could it be considered a recurring dream if it didn’t take place in the same location?

Eventually, after enough iterations, Aziraphale realized that the scenery was different, if only subtly. Sometimes the field would be open and bright, the summer sun beating down on his exposed neck and shoulders. Sometimes there would be trees, rustling in the wind, scattering leaves about as the flowers at his feet bent and swayed like he imagined the ocean waves might.

Sometimes, the dream took place at night, with the light of the full moon spilling over the open space, illuminating the soft blues and whites of the sleeping buds as fireflies danced in the treetops nearby.

It was in one of these circumstances that Aziraphale found himself in currently. He immediately recognized it to be a dream based on the slim, red-haired figure standing several feet before him, gazing over at him with bright amber eyes and a soft smile spread across his thin lips.

“Welcome back, angel.”

Aziraphale scowled, despite the way the words made his stomach flutter. “Why do you insist on calling me that? We’ve talked this over before. I’m not an angel.”

The serpent stood before him, leaning up against a nearby tree, the full green leaves casting dappled shadows across his fair skin. His hair was long still, like it had been back then, with gorgeous copper curls that tumbled across his shoulders and reached down toward the small of his back. 

He was wearing the same clothes as he always did - a simple black tunic and tight black pants stuffed into a pair of boots. Apparently, Aziraphale’s subconscious couldn’t imagine the young man in any other attire.

“You could have fooled me,” he began in that soft, intense tone that sent shivers down the avian’s spine. He was not afraid of the creature, not here within his own mind. Aziraphale had dreamed of this scene many times over the past three years. He knew this was all a manifestation of his own subconscious thoughts. Thoughts he refused to entertain in the waking world. For whatever reason, this serpent boy had a strong hold over Aziraphale. He would never admit it out loud to anyone, but the avian was intrigued by him. Almost to the point where he wished he had stayed that fateful morning, if only to learn the boy’s name.

It was a ridiculous notion. The serpent was obviously dead. There was no way he could have survived the poison. Aziraphale had left him in that field to die. That was the only reason his memory was haunting the avian now.

“You sat by my side all night. You healed me with your voice. With your song.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” Aziraphale protested, forgetting for a moment that this interaction was a manifestation of his innermost thoughts. It wasn’t real.  _ He _ wasn’t real. None of this was. “That’s preposterous even suggesting such a thing. Healing your poison with my singing. It’s impossible. Utter insanity. Why, it would have to be - “

“Magic?” the serpent asked, his eyebrow quirking up ever so slightly.

Aziraphale nodded emphatically. “Precisely.” He was glad to see this imaginary being was finally seeing reason. “Like I said. Preposterous. Everyone knows magic isn’t real.”

“Have you ever seen a falcon dance, angel?” the serpent asked, the light in his amber eyes growing more intense, like sunlight peeking over the horizon. “The air is thick with it. With magic. The streets of  Ahnmik sing with it. Miracles are an everyday happenstance in the land of the falcons. Is it so impossible that an avian might possess a tiny spark of that miraculous power?” 

The avian scoffed at the ridiculousness of it all. Honestly, what insanity would he come up with next? “How could you possibly know that? You’ve never been to Ahnmik.”

He watched as the serpent simply smirked at him, choosing to say nothing against Aziraphale’s accusation. That smug look on his face sliding on so naturally. Aziraphale’s stomach clenched in irritation.

“You!” he began to shout, taking several steps forward, closing the distance between the two of them. “Don’t stand there pretending like you know everything. You are a figment of my imagination! You aren’t  _ real. _ ”

The serpent smiled, softly this time, a glimmer of sadness entering his hypnotic gaze. Slowly, he reached up a hand and rested it gently against Aziraphale’s cheek. It was a cool touch, but not cold and Aziraphale found himself leaning into it, despite his best intentions.

“Why does that thought pain you so, angel?” the serpent asked softly, taking another half step forward so their chests were almost touching. Aziraphale’s breath shuddered unsteadily into his lungs as he gazed up at those brilliant eyes he would never forget. “Why do you continue to let me come to you here?”

Aziraphale sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “I shouldn’t have left you. You were alone, and in pain and I should have stayed by your side until the end.”

The serpent said nothing as Aziraphale glanced up at him again, his face softening at the prolonged contact. He couldn’t stay mad. Not here, not like this. Not when the being in front of him was simply a shadow of himself.

“Please,” Aziraphale found himself whispering before he could think the words through. “Won’t you tell me your name? Can’t you at least give me that much?”

A soft smile appeared on the serpent’s face as he met Aziraphale’s gaze once more. “Now,” he responded, voice barely above a whisper. “Where would the fun be in that? You’ll have to come find me and ask me yourself.” He leaned down to press his forehead against Aziraphale’s, an action that would have been seen as a proper scandal had it occurred in the waking world, even if his companion hadn’t been serpiente. Physical touch as intimate as this was reserved for pair bonds, and was only executed in the comfort and privacy of one’s home. Aziraphale had none of that. No pair bond. No home. Nothing except for his duty to his queen. 

Here in the world of dreams, Aziraphale felt emboldened. Here in the darkness behind his eyelids, he did not fear what others said or thought. He simply allowed himself to feel and to act upon those feelings. He allowed himself to remain in this embrace, to feel the warmth of the young man standing before him. Even if he knew it wasn't real, it was still _something_.

Before he could utter another word, Aziraphale was ripped away from the tranquil scene abruptly as a sharp knock sounded on the door. He was on his feet immediately, reaching for the blade that hung by his bedside, feeling the familiar weight of it settle into his grip as he blinked the sleep from his eyes.

“Open up, Aziraphale!” Andreios’ familiar voice sounded through the dense wood. “You’re needed downstairs immediately.”

Aziraphale blinked again. His commanding officer sounded tense. No, Andreios sounded more than just tense. He sounded panicked.

_ Shit. _ The avian looked quickly out his bedside window. Morning was dawning, which meant that Danica had been gone for just about twenty-four hours. With the occurrence of the Festival all throughout the previous day, her absence must not have been realized until now. No one in the Royal Flight would have known where she went and they would be panicking. Aziraphale was the only one who knew what Danica had done. The only one who knew where his Tuuli Thea had gone.

“Grab your gear, soldier,” Andreios barked as Aziraphale opened the door. “We’re heading to the Serpiente Palace.”

The dove’s mouth fell open. “What? Why?” he found himself asking, even as Andreios shot him an irritated look. “Sir, we can’t just fly straight to the Serpiente Palace. Not without an invitation. It’s a suicide mission.”

Andreios’ brown eyes flashed dangerously. “Your Queen is in the heart of enemy territory and you are worried about your own skin? Have I taught you nothing, Aziraphale!”

“But, sir,” Aziraphale tried again. “If Shardae left willingly, surely she would want us to approach this situation with a bit more grace - ”

Andreios rounded on him, a fury in his eyes the likes Aziraphale had never seen before. For a brief moment in time, the avian had a thought that he probably should fear for his life. 

“You  _ knew, _ ” the crow hissed in his direction, more snakelike than any serpent Aziraphale had ever met. Not that he had many experiences to compare it to. “You knew that your Tuuli Thea had left for enemy territory without  _ any _ protection and said nothing!”

Aziraphale stood open-mouthed at his commander. Why was Andreios acting like this. Surely he had to know what Danica had done. The clues were all there. Had she not discussed her plans with him? Not left him a message of any kind? How was it that Aziraphale was the only one that seemed to understand what was going on?

“You are a member of her Royal Flight!” Andreios hissed, his face mere millimeters from Aziraphale’s. “It is your sworn duty to protect her with your  _ life!” _

Unable to keep his emotions in check any longer, Aziraphale shouted back, “It is also my duty to give her my full faith and trust!” He paused for a heartbeat and then, seeing that Andreios was about to argue back, pressed onward. “You  _ must _ know what she is doing, Andreios. If Shardae went to the serpiente, it was to continue talks of peace. You were with her in the Mistari lands. You saw just as I did what she chose at her coronation. Surely you can see what our Queen is attempting to do. What she  _ wants _ to do in order to acquire peace between our two nations. We can’t jeopardize that.”

He didn’t say the words out loud. Couldn’t say them out loud, not to this man standing before him. Aziraphale knew how much Andreios cared for his queen. They had been best friends since they were children. Andreios had been by her side through everything. He had loved her through it all. It would be cruel of him to remind the crow that the thing he wanted most in the world was currently being offered to someone else. And a serpent prince, at that.

“Fine,” the crow finally huffed, restraining his emotions once more. “We won’t mount an all out attack. I will take a handful of my guards to retrieve her.”

He turned to walk away and Aziraphale let him leave. It was better to give Andreios a wide berth while he was struggling through his emotions, especially ones that dealt with Danica. For an avian, the crow was awfully abysmal at hiding how he truly felt. 

“What are you doing, soldier?”

Aziraphale snapped to attention, surprised to see Andrieos had stopped halfway down the hall and had turned to face him, almost as if he was waiting for the dove to follow him.

“You’re coming with me,” Andreios explained after a moment's hesitation. “Out of all the members of the Royal Flight, you are the one I trust the most  _ not _ to cut off the head of the first serpent you see. And, apparently, that’s the tactic we are going for today. You’re not getting out of this one, Aziraphale. I need you.”

Without another word, Aziraphale hurried after him, trying not to let his heart hope too much at the thought that he was finally heading toward the home of the serpents.

* * *

“Members of the Royal Flight are here!”

Crowley’s head shot up immediately from his corner of the room where, up until that point, he’d been enjoying a nice nap. The serpent felt his heart leap into his throat as his mind registered the words that had been spoken. There was no way to tell which one of the dancers had made the announcement, but all were rushing to the front door now, trying to catch a glimpse of the palace from a distance.

It was no use. Even once he squirmed his way past the excited and nervous dancers and climbed up to the top of the Nest, Crowley couldn’t see anything useful. He could see a collection of people in the courtyard of the palace situated below them, but he was too far away to make out any details. If he wanted to find out what was going on, he was going to need to get closer. 

The walk from the palace to Sha’Mehay took all of ten minutes for anyone that did not stop to admire the view along the way. Crowley traversed the route in five, his lungs burning all the while. His body had been made for sensual dancing. Free-flowing, connected, graceful movements, not this foot pounding, breath-stealing, burst-of-energy racing through the forest. It took all of the serpent’s energy to make it to the palace that quickly and when he arrived, skidding to a halt behind the large crowd that had gathered near the front gates, he had to stop and catch his breath for nearly a minute before his vision cleared enough to see what was going on.

There were three avians there, standing in the center of the courtyard that lead up to the front doors of the palace. Two males and a female. Zane was standing with them too, talking with a male with shoulder length dark hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. Crowley could sense neither one of them was very happy about the exchange, but they were trying to be polite about it, which was a step in the right direction, he supposed.

A fluttering of wings from the trees nearby caught Crowley’s attention. He turned away and saw, off in the distance, three avian figures rising above the forest. One of them was small, barely visible in the morning light, but the serpent recognized the form of the other two. A night black raven flanking the right side of a golden hawk.

So, the Royal Flight had come for Danica after all. Did this mean negotiations for peace were over? Was Danica no longer their Naga? Had she summoned the Royal Flight to come take her home for good?

No, that didn’t make sense. If the avians were pulling out why would Zane be out here dressed like he was going on a trip? He wasn’t, was he? Crowley supposed it made sense for his Diente to travel to Danica’s home, but did it have to be so soon? He’d only just become their king. Couldn’t he wait just a bit longer before crossing that dangerous bridge?

Crowley’s gaze drifted to the soldiers standing several dozen feet in front of him. He was fairly tall for his age, and although he stood toward the back of the crowd, there was enough of a gap in between several heads in front of him to at least get a good look at them from the chest up. The one closest to Zane was the obvious leader. He didn’t need a fancy hat or cape or medal to distinguish him. Crowley could tell in the way the man held himself. He could tell in the way the other soldiers’ eyes constantly flickered back toward him, waiting for his direction.

A few steps behind the raven-haired avian was a tall, slender female. She, too, had long black hair tied in a braid down half of her back and stood at attention, eyes fixed on the serpents before her, a blank void of nothingness in her dark brown eyes.

The third avian was in complete contrast to the rest. Where they were tall and slender, he was on the shorter side and much stockier. He wasn’t fat - not by a long-shot. Crowley could see the outline of his arms underneath the light blue tunic he wore and the definition made the serpent’s heartbeat noticeably speed up. He was sure every serpent around him could feel it and he hoped that they would assume the reaction was due to his nerves and not the embarrassing reality that it was.

Where the others had long, dark hair, his was short and the lightest blonde Crowley had ever seen, almost white in color, with tiny alabaster feathers poking out all across his scalp, like a soft down pillow. Even from this distance, Crowley could see that this avian’s eyes were the brightest blue, as bright as the sky dancing above them, and held a spark inside them that brought this man to life in front of the serpent’s very eyes, unlike any avian he had ever seen.

For the briefest of moments, Crowley watched as the blue eyes made their way across the gathering crowd, scanning the area around them, looking for any sign of threat. Most of the serpents gathered in the courtyard remained a safe distance away, shifting nervously from one foot to the other as they watched with wary jeweled eyes. Apart from the serpiente soldiers in their midst, most of these subjects had never seen an avian before, and certainly not any as intimidating as the ones who remained standing before them.

A second later, the blue eyes were back and to Crowley’s amazement, they were fixed on him. He felt the breath still in his lungs as the serpent momentarily forgot how to breathe. This couldn’t be him, could it? Was his angel standing there right in front of him? Was this the man he's been dreaming of for three straight years? Was this the being that had saved him from certain death?

As Crowley stared back with wide amber eyes, he saw the spark of life drain from the avian’s eyes. All of a sudden, Crowley felt like he was looking at a statue. A painting of a beautiful young man with sky blue eyes and pale white hair, but a painting that held no heart to it. No spark of life. No passion, no essence. Nothing.

Coldness began to seep its way into Crowley’s body as he stared at the empty figure standing several dozen feet away. He felt his palms begin to sweat profusely as his stomach gave a very heart-filled attempt to deposit itself of his breakfast. The only way Crowley was able to calm himself was to force his gaze away from the white-haired avian. To remove that empty gaze from his vision.

No, this couldn’t be the one he was looking for. The angel he remembered had been so soft. So warm. And dare he say it, so loving. There was no way that this heartless,  _ soulless _ , avian soldier was the one that he had been searching for. It couldn't be him.

Still, despite his initial disappointment at the revelation, Crowley felt a surge of hope rise within him. The fact that this avian matched his memories of that fateful morning meant that perhaps these white-winged creatures wasn’t so rare after all. How many of them were there back in the avian kingdom? A dozen? A hundred? More? How long would it take Crowley to find the one individual he was so desperately hoping to find?

During his musings, Crowley’s eyes fell to Zane. Sometime in the last few minutes several horses had been brought by for their journey to the Hawk’s Keep. While the avians may be able to travel by air, Zane was confined to transportation methods on the ground. Riding by horseback was the quickest way to get the serpent to their destination.

His Diente had already mounted the majestic creature, as had the other soulless avians beside him. As if he could sense the serpent’s presence nearby, Zane’s garnet gaze found Crowley’s in the crowd and the man inclined his head ever so slightly.

“We’re off to share the good news with her family,” he called, giving Crowley a wave and a wide, white-toothed smile. Despite his hammering heart, Crowley couldn’t help but smile back. “Wish me luck!”

He was going to need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know they didn't really interact this chapter, but there was a moment! So we're getting there.
> 
> Crowley and Aziraphale will have their first actual conversation next chapter, so stay tuned.
> 
> Thanks so much to all of you out there reading this. I honestly wasn't sure how many people would be interested in this sort of story when I began. Apparently Hawksong isn't as popular a book as I thought it was when I was growing up. So thank you all for joining me on this journey :) I am enjoying it immensely and I hope you are too! Thank you for your comments as we continue along. I absolutely adore reading them and get so so excited whenever a new one shows up.
> 
> You all are the best! I hope to have the next chapter up by Friday or Saturday at the latest!


	7. Chapter 7

He was alive. Aziraphale’s serpent was  _ alive. _

Aziraphale couldn’t believe it. Even in his wildest imaginings, the avian had never dared to hope that the serpent boy he’d sat beside three years ago would have survived that night. He’d been struck by an avian arrow, poisoned and left for dead, and somehow he had  _ survived _ .

Hope had struck Aziraphale like a lightning bolt the moment he’d laid eyes on the boy - now a young man - standing at the edge of the serpiente courtyard. He was still just as beautiful as Aziraphale remembered. Tall, slim, with wild red curls that hung past his shoulders. Joy had unexpectedly flooded his heart the moment Aziraphale had recognized him and he’d been unable to keep it at bay.

And then their eyes met and for one horrifying moment, the serpent’s face had reflected those same feelings coursing through the avian’s entire body and Aziraphale had panicked. Did the young man recognize him? Surely, he couldn’t know who Aziraphale was. The serpent had been unconscious the whole time Aziraphale had knelt by his side. His eyes had only been open for a brief second. Aziraphale could still hear his words, echoing in his memory, thinking he was dead and calling the avian an angel. The boy had been disoriented, barely able to focus his gaze on anything around him. There was no way he’d seen enough to be able to identify Aziraphale. Right? 

What did it mean if he did recognize Aziraphale? It was ridiculous to believe that the avian had anything to do with his recovery, but would the others see it that way? Would Danica and Andreios believe he  _ had _ saved the life of a serpent during a time when they were still at war? If the serpent revealed what Aziraphale had done, what would that mean for Aziraphale? Would he be allowed to remain in the Royal Flight? Would they strip him of his rank and send him away?

Aziraphale shut himself down in that moment. He banished every emotion into a remote corner of his heart to be dealt with at another time when he wasn’t surrounded by dozens of people. He eradicated any trace of joy, or hope, or surprise, or fear hovering in his mind and focused solely on his task. Retrieve Danica and Zane and return them safely to the Hawk’s Keep.

As he did so, his serpent’s face went from hopeful to despairing in a single breath. Aziraphale hadn’t understood the transition, couldn’t comprehend how his decision to swallow his emotions had affected the other man so deeply. In that moment, the serpent boy that had haunted Aziraphale’s dreams for years looked to be in such incredible pain that the avian had almost shed tears over the sight. It had taken all of his willpower to keep his reserve in place, relief only coming when the other man had finally turned away.

Every two weeks they traveled back and forth from the Serpiente Palace to the Hawk’s Keep. Each time they went, Andreios handpicked the guards to accompany Danica to her secondary home. Not all of the Royal Flight were given the opportunity to travel into serpiente lands, and it wasn’t the same collection of soldiers that went every time, with two exceptions.

Andreios and Aziraphale.

“You are the only one of the Flight that I trust not to straight out murder a serpent that looks at you funny,” Andreios admitted once when Aziraphale had asked why he was always chosen to travel to the palace. “And strangely enough, I think you’re the only one  _ they _ wouldn’t immediately cut down if a fight broke out. For whatever reason, they seem to like you.”

‘Like’ was a strong word. The serpiente people tolerated Aziraphale, perhaps more so than the other avian guards. But that was hardly his fault, or theirs, if he was being honest. Andreios had appointed himself as Danica’s personal guard. Everywhere she went, he silently followed. As powerful a warrior he was, Andreios was not invulnerable. At some point, he had to rest his body like the rest of them.

That was where Aziraphale came in. 

Aziraphale had been assigned the leader of the night shift. He was on duty only during the hours that Andreios was not. From a few hours after dusk until dawn. Aziraphale typically went to sleep after his post was relieved and woke up mid afternoon. With his shift not starting until the sun vanished beyond the horizon, the avian found himself with plenty of free time on his hands. Free time that he often used to explore the palace and interact with the serpiente people. 

So far, his favorite place to spend time was the forum. It was similar to the market in the Hawk’s keep - a large open space adjacent to the side of the palace where artists and shopkeepers gathered to perform and sell their wares. Like most avians, Aziraphale did not do well in enclosed spaces. Much of the palace was comprised of stone walls and dimly lit spaces. Out here, he could feel that natural sunlight against his skin and feel the breeze ruffling his short hair. In the forum, he felt much more at ease. The avian was able to choose a seat off to the side and simply watch as life at the palace passed him by.

It took two days into their second visit, with him sitting by himself, watching the dancers as they flitted about on the dias scattered about before one of them spoke to him. In all honesty, Aziraphale had not expected any of the serpiente to approach him. He was a stranger in their home, a stranger that had trained for nearly half his life to kill them. The avian would have been perfectly content if the serpents around him had simply ignored him, like they’d been doing for the past several weeks, but somehow, Aziraphale had caught their attention.

He supposed it was natural for them to feel curious, just as his own curiosity came to life as the woman approached him. She was young, likely not much older than he was, with piercing emerald eyes and long black hair that tumbled in waves almost to her knees. Aziraphale watched with slowly reddening cheeks as she approached him, her hips swaying side to side, the silken fabric of her clothing showing as much as they concealed. 

Though he did not know her name, Aziraphale recognized this woman. It was obvious she was widely popular amongst her people. Flocks of men and women both followed her wherever she went, watching in awe each time she took the stage. He was no expert, but Aziraphale would venture to claim that she was a master dancer. The way she moved with the music and captivated her audience with a single motion, Aziraphale had never seen anything like it.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” she observed, bare feet resting soundlessly on the marbled stairs as she ascended them, taking a seat beside Aziraphale, a respectable distance away. “More so than anytime I’ve seen you inside the palace walls.” The avian nodded his head and smiled at her, pleasantly surprised at her boldness. She spoke with him so casually, like one friend might greet another. There was no hesitation in her green eyes, that he could see. No fear causing her movements to stiffen or her pupils to retract. This woman seemed completely at ease beside him, and Aziraphale realized that other nearby serpents had begun to take notice, watching their interaction with curious gem-colored eyes.

“Much of the Hawk’s Keep remains open to the outside world,” Aziraphale found himself explaining, angling his body toward hers as he folded his hands and rested them gently on one knee. “We tend to gravitate toward wide, open spaces like this one. It truly is remarkably beautiful.”

Although the forum was located outside, no expense had been spared in its design. Against one of the palace walls was a wide waterfall-like fountain with a beautiful mosaic background depicting twelve serpents, each shifted into their demi forms. They still looked mostly humanoid, with different color scales rippling across their skin and sharp fangs protruding from their mouths. The floor of the forum was decorated in a similar way, with an even larger mosaic arranged in an intricate pattern of shapes and spirals that detailed nearly every color of the rainbow.

“It is a sight to behold,” the woman responded, lifting her head to take in all the people moving about around them. Aziraphale swept his gaze across the area, blue eyes lingering on the forms of several dancers as they took to the stage to lend motion to the music that was already drifting through the air. 

“Are all the serpiente wonderful dancers?” Aziraphale asked, turning back to the woman. She flashed him a smile and Aziraphale noticed that her teeth were perfectly flat. He didn’t know what he’d expected to see - rows of sharp teeth, two long fangs pointing downward toward her full lips. It was silly of him to assume that the serpiente walked around with their fangs out all the time. He didn’t bother exposing his wings unless he needed them to fly away. For a large portion of their lives, Aziraphale supposed that both races walked around in their most humanoid forms. Apart from the color of their eyes and the feathers hidden amidst avian hair, it would be impossible to tell the difference between them.

The woman laughed. It was a deep, warm sound that brought another smile to Aziraphale’s face. He was continually amazed at how normal he felt when surrounded by these creatures he had been taught his whole life to hate. When Danica was nowhere nearby, Aziraphale was able to let his guard down. He didn’t have to constantly worry that someone was going to try and attack her, so the avian was able to focus on other aspects of this place that was slowly becoming his temporary home.

“Almost all serpents have some natural ability,” she responded, lifting a hand slowly in front of them both. Aziraphale watched in awe as her pale skin rippled before him, shifting into scales of patterned brown and black. “It’s in our blood, to bend and twist gracefully.” Once again, the woman’s gaze returned to Aziraphale’s face. She did not hide her surprise at his reaction to her change. He supposed she had expected him to recoil in shock or disgust, or perhaps fear. The fact that he had not must have intrigued her. “Like all talents, some are more gifted than others. But all serpiente children are taught our dances from a young age. Some choose to pursue the art. Others do not.”

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment as he looked back out over the crowd. Then, remembering his manners, turned to face the woman, bowing his head in thanks.

“Thank you for taking the time to speak with me,” the avian began, not entirely sure what else to say. A strange look came over the woman’s face as her bright gaze danced across his form. Suddenly, Aziraphale began to feel very self-conscious. Had he done something wrong? Was this not how the serpiente people interacted with each other? What was he supposed to say in a situation like this?

“What’s your name, dove-let?” she finally asked, using a name that almost sounded endearing. The warmth in her voice surprised Aziraphale, and he wondered what this woman must think of him.

“Aziraphale,” the avian answered almost immediately. “And yours?”

“A’isha.”

It was only fitting that an enchanting woman like herself would have a similarly enchanting name. 

“Would you like to come and see some of the best dancers at work?”

She held out a hand, waiting patiently to see if he would take it. After a moment’s hesitation, Aziraphale rose to his feet, nodding his head in a polite thanks as she withdrew the offer. Something about A’isha’s smile made him feel like she had understood his apprehension and took no offense to his hesitancy for physical contact.

“Come with me, dove-let,” she began, a glimmer of amusement in her emerald gaze. Aziraphale found himself smiling back, unable to pin down exactly why his heart had quickened in pace as he thought of what the rest of the afternoon might hold for him.

“Let me show you.”

* * *

At first, Crowley didn’t notice him in the crowd. A’isha was known to bring in groups of people to watch them rehearse, so when she returned to the nest mid-rehearsal with another figure in tow, he thought nothing of it. Crowley didn’t have time to divert his attention. He was currently in the middle of teaching some of the younger female dancers a series of more difficult steps from the Namir-da. It involved a lot of lifting on his part, and allowing distractions now could result in someone getting hurt. 

The new arrivals faded into the background and Crowley prepared himself for what came next. He let the music enter his body through his ears, feeling the pulse of the drumbeat reverberate in his bones. Two dancers had joined him onstage and he made sure to lock gazes with one, and then the next, as he lifted them in turn from one end of the stage to another, arms straining all the while.

This particular dance required a great deal of effort on his part, but Crowley always felt a certain surge of strength whenever he performed it. There was something about watching his partners surrendering all control - trusting him completely to handle them with the utmost care, that fueled his spirit and moved him more than any words ever could.

When the dance finally ended, Crowley reached forward to pull the two female dancers into a hug and kissed both of them on the cheek. They smiled at him and hurried off the stage, likely wishing to get a head start in preparing themselves for the evening meal. Then,and only then, did Crowley allow himself to turn toward A’isha, beaming as she nodded her head in approval.

“You dance beautifully.”

Crowley looked over to find the blonde-haired avian soldier, standing by A’isha’s side, smiling over at him. The serpent felt his heart still for a moment as he took in those wide blue eyes, shining with life just as they had been a few weeks ago when he’d first seen them. Once again, the thought crept into his mind.  _ Could  _ this be the avian man that had saved him? At first, Crowley had been sure it was impossible, but this man and the one he had seen from a distance previously were like night and day. This man was  _ alive _ where the other had been empty. This man was warm and welcoming where the other had filled Crowley up with a terrible, aching coldness.

Could this really be his angel?

No. This man, while he may look similar to the one Crowley remembered, was not the one Crowley so desperately wanted to meet. It was his voice that ultimately led the serpent to his conclusion. The voice in his memory - the one that had sung the song to bring him back to life - that voice had been nothing short of angelic. It had been pure and sweet and much higher pitched than the man who was currently speaking now. The sounds just didn’t match up. No matter how much he wanted to believe he had been wrong, the serpent had to accept that this man just wasn’t the one.

Crowley’s chest clenched painfully and he gently chastised himself. This was no time to be getting upset. Just because one of the  _ five _ avians that had traveled here wasn’t his angel didn’t mean that none of them were. The peace between the two kingdoms was fragile now, but he had hope that fragility wouldn’t last forever. There would come a time, maybe a few months from now, or maybe a few years from now when he would be able to find his angel. He just had to be patient. His angel was out there, he was  _ real _ , and Crowley was going to find him.

_ Unless he hasn’t made it this far. _

The thought made Crowley blanch with fear. How, in all this time, had he never considered that possibility? Three years had passed since the serpent had found himself in that godforsaken field. How many of his people had died in that time? How many avians had been slaughtered on the battlefields? What were the chances something had happened to his angel? What if he was chasing a ghost after all?

“Are you alright?” Crowley heard the avian ask and the serpent immediately turned his attention back to the man, a light blush dusting his cheeks. Every serpent in the room had likely just felt the war of emotions going on inside of him. They probably thought he was crazy, more than they already thought him to be.

He was a mess. A disaster of a person who needed to get a grip on himself before he actually did go off the deep end. Amber eyes flicked up and his heart thudded in his chest as he took in the concerned expression on the man’s face. 

“Just fine,” he answered, having finally found his voice. Offering up a tentative smile, Crowley reached out a hand in greeting. “My name is Crowley. I’m a dancer here.”

_ Stupid. _ The man already knew that. He’d come all the way here to watch them perform. Of course he knew Crowley was a dancer.

The avian’s blue eyes flickered down for a moment and Crowley could taste the hesitation in the air as it flowed out from him. What had he done wrong? Was introducing himself crossing some kind of line he didn’t know about? He may not be the avian Crowley was looking for, but the serpent hated the thought that he was making the man uncomfortable.

Crowley went to pull his hand back, but a surge of determination struck him straight in the chest, emanating from the man standing before him. Before he could blink, the avian soldier had reached out and closed the distance between them, clutching Crowley’s hand firmly within his own.

“Aziraphale,” he offered up with another smile, more sure of himself this time than he had been before. “It’s nice to meet you, Crowley. I must admit, I may not be an expert on serpiente dancing, but you were absolutely wonderful up there. What I wouldn’t give to be able to be as good at something as you are at dancing.”

Again, Crowley blushed, feeling a slight tingling in his hand as he returned it to his side. Where had this sudden kindness come from? This man, Aziraphale, was a soldier, was he not? By his outward appearance, Crowley assumed he had been training for several years. His strong arms were visible even underneath his loose blue tunic, and a quick glance at the man’s hands revealed the familiar rough calluses that came from hours of training with a sword. And yet, here he was, speaking with great gentleness to someone that would have been considered an enemy just a month prior.

“I could teach you some steps,” the words tumbled out of his mouth before Crowley could stop them. “If you wanted.” He paused for only a moment, cheeks flushing with heat as he gazed up into those brilliant blue eyes. “Would you want to?”

He didn’t know what possessed him to ask such a thing. Perhaps it was the way the man’s soft blue eyes shimmered in the sunlight. Perhaps it was the soft smile that seemed to always rest on his fair lips. Perhaps it was the fact that out of all of the avians who were currently living in serpiente lands, he had been the only one to seek out sha’Mehay. The only one who seemed interested in appreciating and learning more about their culture.

Whatever the reason, Crowley had asked, like a complete  _ idiot.  _ Of course this avian wouldn’t want to learn to dance - especially not from him. Crowley was a nobody to Aziraphale. He was a simple serpentine dancer. A source of entertainment for his community and nothing else. Crowley couldn’t fight. He didn’t make beautiful garments or jewelry. He provided nothing to his kingdom except the recitation of ancient stories through dance.

“I doubt that I would be any good,” Aziraphale admitted, reaching up a hand to ruffle the back of his head, white-blonde curls sticking up in all different directions. His cheeks, too, had flushed with a delicate pink color and Crowley felt his heart do a somersault inside of his chest. He prayed that none of the other serpents in the room picked up on the stuttering sound. “And I don’t know how some in our kingdoms might take such an arrangement. But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little bit interested.” 

Aziraphale offered him up a hesitant smile and Crowley could tell without looking over at her that A’isha was also grinning at them both. He ignored her, keeping his entire attention on the man standing before him. 

“If you think you can handle an unskilled, untrained avian with you on your stage, I would be honored for you to teach me.”

The sincerity in his voice filled Crowley’s heart with an inexplicable joy. He grinned, all his earlier apprehension fading away, already looking forward to the challenge. 

Once again, he stuck out his hand, grin only widening as Aziraphale took it without hesitation. Crowley shook it once, firmly, and then released the hand, ignoring the tingles of energy dancing across his skin where they had touched.

“It would be my pleasure to work with you, Aziraphale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, they have finally met face to face. Let the pining commence :)
> 
> Thank you again to all of you who continue to leave me feedback. I am so so excited you are enjoying this story. It is so much fun for me to bring these two worlds together. I am having an absolute blast!


	8. Chapter 8

“Listen to yourself,” Crowley argued, crossing both arms over his chest as he faced off the tall, blonde serpent in front of him. “Adelina, you’re being ridiculous.”

Her eyebrows shot up, a flash of fury shining behind bright emerald eyes. “Oh,  _ I’m _ being ridiculous? Me?” 

Crowley bit back the words he wanted to say, choosing instead to attempt and appeal to her better nature. “It would only be an hour or so,” he pointed out, trying to keep his voice level. “Come on. You love dancing, and you’re not on duty for another few hours. Come back to the nest. Help me out, just a little bit.”

Adelina took a step forward. With lightning fast motion, both of her palms simultaneously struck hard against Crowley’s chest, sending him stumbling backward, nearly falling to the ground. With the grace perfected by years upon years of rigorous training, the serpent was able to catch himself, bending over backward as he allowed his hands to touch the ground. They were only there for an instant as the young man carried the momentum through, flipping his legs gracefully over his head and back onto the ground in a perfect round-off.

“Was that really necessary?” the red-haired serpent glowered as he reached down to wipe the dirt off his hands and onto the loose fitting emerald trousers. 

“If you think,” the blonde woman spat at him, emerald eyes blazing in the afternoon sun, “that I would be caught dead helping one of  _ them _ , you’ve got another thing coming, Crowley.” She stalked forward, shoving roughly into the side of his shoulder as she passed by. Crowley growled under his breath but bit back his retort. This was not worth getting into a fight over. For one, Adelina could beat him with her hands tied behind her back. And for another…

It wasn’t like Crowley was  _ worried _ about his upcoming meeting with Aziraphale. At least, he didn’t thinks so. Sure, his heart was racing like hummingbird’s wings and his palms were sweaty, hands shaky, and he couldn’t quite focus on anything but the sound of ringing in his ears, but what did that prove? None of that meant he was scared of the avian. If anything, Crowley was excited to show off his skills to the outsider, and perhaps just a little bit nervous that all three of his assistants had bailed on him in the last few hours.

“Not to worry,” Crowley mumbled to himself as he changed course and headed back towards the nest. Aziraphale was supposed to meet him there in less than an hour. The serpent had hoped he’d have more time to prepare. His original plan had involved getting a few of the younger dancers to help out. That way, Crowley would be able to take a step back and observe - to point out places where Aziraphale would undoubtedly need some help - while they continued to walk him through the steps. Now that even Adelina wouldn’t agree to help him, Crowley was on his own.

“Should be no trouble at all,” he reasoned with himself as the serpent approached the front doors of the dancer’s nest. He hovered outside for a bit, not entirely sure which direction Aziraphale would be coming from. If he’d been thinking clearly, Crowley would have just met him down in the marketplace. They could have walked up here together, talked for a little bit before he was expected to jump into teaching.

They could have learned a little bit about each other. Could have interacted a bit more than that one awkward conversation they’d had together just the other day. Of course, it had really been Crowley who’d been the awkward one. Aziraphale had been a perfect gentleman, to the serpent’s utter surprise. His entire life, he’d heard stories about the fearsome avian race. Cold, hard. Unfeeling and unmerciful. As still as statues and devoid of anything remotely resembling a soul. Up until recently, Crowley had believed those stories. Even the Avian guards who had been here just weeks ago filled his body with a sense of unease and dread.

But not Aziraphale. No, when the white-haired avian had appeared in Sh’mahay, he had been nothing but kind and polite.  _ More _ than that, even. He had appeared alive when all the other avians had seemed empty. There was a certain twinkle in his eye, a lightness to his voice. It stirred something within Crowley each time he heard it. Something the serpent had no way of explaining.

“Good morning, Crowley.” There it was. That voice. That voice that made his stomach flutter and his heartbeat stutter to life. That voice that caused heat to pool in his pale cheeks as he fought to keep the tremble from visibly showing in his hands. “Or, rather, it is a good afternoon, I suppose. I only woke up an hour or so ago, so it feels more like morning to me.”

Crowley’s eyes widened slightly as he turned to face the avian that had somehow snuck up on him during his musings. He offered a small, tentative smile, ignoring the very obvious physical reaction his body was currently undergoing. There was no logical reason why his heart should be beating this fast. No reason for his palms to be sweating or his knees to be knocking. 

The Serpiente people were not a race of logic or reason, no matter how much he wished they were sometimes. Crowley knew that if he did not get a hold of himself soon, he would make an absolute fool of himself when it came time to take to the dance floor. 

“Isn’t that abnormal for an avian?” the man asked, deflecting their attention away from himself as he ushered Aziraphale into the vine-encased structure. “I thought you all naturally awoke with the sun.”

Aziraphale nodded as he passed by, stepping into the main hall. “We do. But though he’s loath to admit it, Andreios has to sleep sometimes. I stand guard when he cannot.”

At this admission, Crowley’s eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead. The serpent didn’t know much, but in the few weeks since the avians had started coming here, he’d gathered a few bits of information - the most important being that the crow, Andreios, was the captain of the Royal Flight. He was an avian that was not to be trifled with. Under any circumstances. The fact that this man, Aziraphale, was hand chosen to take Andreios’ place? And yet wanted to spend his free time learning to dance the serpent’s dance? It made no sense, and Crowley found himself being reeled in further by that kind smile and the shimmer of those sapphire blue eyes.

“Thank you for agreeing to teach me,” Aziraphale continued after a prolonged silence. It was only then that Crowley realized he should have said something to continue the conversation along. What was  _ wrong _ with him? He was normally much more collected than this. It must be the nerves getting to him. The sooner they started the lesson, the better.

“Of course,” the serpent responded, leading Aziraphale to the back of the room and toward a set of spiral wooden stairs. Fingers brushing across the green vines clinging to the handles, Crowley began to climb, coming to a stop when he noticed the Avian soldier was not following.

“You alright?” Crowley asked, watching with a curious amber gaze as Aziraphale glanced down at the first step by his feet. At the sound of his voice, the avian looked up, a hesitant smile creeping across his pale, pink lips.

“Oh, yes,” he answered, lifting a leg to place his foot on the bottom step. “I’m just not accustomed to this mode of travel, is all. It’s quite alright. I can handle a simple set of stairs.”

Crowley’s eyes widened. “You’re not used to  _ stairs _ ?” How was that possible? He’d heard stories of the magnificence of the Hawk’s Keep. How it towered hundreds of feet into the air. Did Aziraphale really expect him to believe that he’d never climbed a set of stairs before?

Apparently, Crowley's remark was an amusing one. Aziraphale let out a low chuckle, his enjoyment drifting through the air like a warm summer’s breeze. “Of course I’m not, dear boy. I have wings for a reason. Seems a shame to let them go to waste, wouldn’t you say?”

Without another word, Crowley turned around and continued up the stairs, mostly to hide the obvious flush that was taking over his entire face. Of course the Hawk’s Keep wouldn’t have stairs. They probably flew everywhere they needed to go. That type of travel was likely second nature to them, not something out of a fairytale like it was to the serpent.

Was this ever going to get easier? Was this peace with the avians truly a permanent thing? Would Crowley ever get used to the idea of people who could sprout wings from their backs and fly high above the clouds like they were just normal people and not some sort of heavenly angels.

The serpent stepped out onto the second floor, trying desperately to hide the rising sorrow within him. Now was not the time to be pining away after some ghost - someone he didn’t even know was still alive. Crowley needed to focus on the here and now, not some far-off dream. There would be time for that later, when he could find a moment to be alone.

“Are you alright?” came Aziraphale’s gentle voice behind him as the red-haired man stopped underneath the arch leading to one of the rehearsal spaces. He forced a smile on to his face and turned toward his companion, touched to find the avian man was genuinely concerned for his well-being. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Crowley responded, non-committaly. Lying, to the serpiente people, was considered beyond rude, especially if doing so involved the hiding of one's feelings. Luckily for him, avians couldn’t sense emotions like his people. And Aziraphale didn’t know him well enough to decipher what was really going on inside his head at the present moment. There weren’t very many people who did. “You ready to get your feet wet?”

Aziraphale frowned, and for a second, Crowley thought he might have said something wrong. “Wet?” the avian asked, reaching down to untie the wrists of his tunic, slowly rolling up one sleeve at a time. Something warm stirred in the center of Crowley’s belly as he watched, barely daring to breathe. “Is this some sort of water dance?”

What? The serpent forced his gaze up to the man’s face. Water dance? What in Anhamarik’s name was this man talking about?

A few seconds later, it hit him. There was absolutely nothing he could have done to prevent the laugh that escaped his lips in that moment as Crowley felt a wave of excitement wash over him.

“No,” he chuckled, reaching out a hand to take Aziraphale’s in his, leading the man over to the center of the room. Without a word, Crowley slipped off his shoes and tossed them over to a remote corner of the room. Aziraphale, too, removed his, walking them steadily over to a place against the nearest wall before returning once more to Crowley's side. “No puddles or rivers or fountains of any kind. I promise. It’s just an expression, Aziraphale.”

For reasons unknown to him, those words seemed to calm the man down significantly. The buzz of energy in the room seemed to vanish for a moment. Then, Crowley watched as Aziraphale’s eyes flickered down to their still entwined hands and something in the pit of his stomach stirred. Crowley tried to hone in on the feeling, tried to breathe in deeply and taste it with the tip of his tongue - subtly, so he wouldn’t be noticed. Before he could get a good sense, the feeling was gone. 

A spark of fear flickered in Crowley’s heart as his eyes darted up to the avian’s face. He expected to see a statue, a being devoid of any emotion, of any sign of humanity at all, and was relieved to find his assumptions to be wrong. Aziraphale’s emotions had been momentarily shoved beneath the surface to a place where Crowley could not reach, but the man was still here, watching him patiently. Waiting for the lesson to begin.

“Right,” Crowley began, dropping the man’s hand and coaxing his body into the starting position. He’d chosen a simple dance to start. One that the children learned when they first began studying the art. Before there were talks of fighting and of death. Before they learned to fear the world outside the nest. It was a simple dance, speaking of the wonders of every season. The blessings of a spring rainfall, the comfort of a summer’s sun. The beauty of autumn leaves and the silent wonder of a cold winter’s night.

“Place your feet like this,” he instructed, first showing Aziraphale how to tuck one foot behind the other while still remaining upright. The man wobbled a bit, but did not fall and Crowley quickly knelt on the floor, placing his hand upon the man’s ankle to shift him slightly one way, making sure the weight was distributed properly. Rising to his feet once more, the serpent took the first few steps of the dance, focusing only on the motion of his feet. Hand and body movements could come later. For now, the most important thing was for Aziraphale to feel the rhythm in his core. Without the heartbeat of the music, the dance meant nothing.

“Now you try,” Crowley coaxed. Aziraphale did. Clumsily. Properly, without a single spark of passion or grace. The serpent tried his best to keep the frown from his face. He demonstrated the steps again, watching as the avian tried and failed to get them right.

“You’re thinking about it too much,” Crowley stated, positioning himself behind Aziraphale as he gently placed his hands on the man’s shoulders, willing him to relax. He half expected the soldier to jump away - to be uncomfortable with a serpiente standing behind him where he could not see, but Aziraphale almost...leaned into the touch, turning his head ever so slightly so that one sapphire eye could gaze over at Crowley’s face as he listened intently to the instructions.

“Let the rhythm guide your movements,” the serpent explained, lightly tapping the drum beat on the fabric right next to Aziraphale’s exposed neck. Once again, heat began to coil in his stomach, hands trembling ever so slightly. They were alone now, not a single dancer to be seen, although Crowley could tell there were others in the building somewhere. Despite every warning he’d ever received as a child, Crowley was grateful there was no one else around. There would have been no way to hide these feelings welling up inside of him from any serpent within several dozen feet. No way to mask the rapid beating of his heart - nearly as quick as Aziraphale’s avian one, which naturally beat almost twice as fast to begin with.

“Let the music guide you,” he repeated, forcing his voice to remain steady, “but don’t let it be your master. Have the wisdom to listen to your body. Focus in on the breath in your lungs and the feel of the ground against your feet. Let the air tickle your skin and don’t worry about getting every step right. Just take the step and move onto the next.”

Aziraphale took in a deep breath in that moment, his eyes fluttering closed. Once again, Crowley tapped out the beat of the song on the avian’s shoulders. They didn’t have any musicians with them here, and Crowley wasn’t the best singer in the world, but he hummed along anyway, watching as Aziraphale once again took the first steps of the dance.

They weren’t perfect, by any means, but this time they were fluid. The man’s face was soft and open. He let the music flow through him and danced those simple steps and Crowley felt himself come alive. Heart bursting forth from his chest, and unable to stop himself, he broke out into a wide grin. Before he could let the smile fade, his hands stilled and Aziraphale opened his eyes, returning the grin with a smile of his own that made Crowley want to stay in this moment for the rest of eternity. As long as he lived, the serpent wanted to see this man’s smile, over and over and over again.

Dear Anhamirak, what was happening to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It has been a long time since I updated this story. I am so so sorry for the wait, everyone. Apparently three Good Omens projects at once is too much for me to handle. This one got put on the back burner, but I'm back now and hoping to keep the updates more consistent for you all. I fully intend to finish this story, so for those of you still here, thanks for sticking with me. We are just about halfway done.


	9. Chapter 9

The dreams returned with a vengeance, now that he had been to the serpiente land. Now that he knew the copper-haired boy’s name. Now that he saw the man’s face - his brilliant amber eyes - every day that he was away from home.

In all honesty, the dreams had never left Aziraphale’s mind. How could they, when every day he was plagued with guilt for leaving Crowley behind to die alone? Now that he knew Crowley was alive, the dreams seemed to come more frequently, with greater intensity. There were times now when Aziraphale couldn’t even tell he was in a dream until it was suddenly over. Not all of them took place in that field anymore. Sometimes, they would be dancing together in Sh’mahay. Other times, they would be walking side by side in the forum, watching as the merchants tried to sell their wares.

Aziraphale’s favorite dreams were the ones where they sat alone underneath a starry sky. Those were the easiest to identify. If Aziraphale was walking around outside with Crowley at night, it meant he wasn’t at his post. It meant he wasn’t protecting Danica, his Tuuli Thea, his  _ queen. _ Aziraphale would  _ never _ abandon her. He would rather die than leave Shardae unguarded, which meant he had to be dreaming.

It was in these dreams, specifically, that the avian felt freer. He was able to converse with Crowley in a way that he was unable to in the real world. Here, in the safety of his own mind, Aziraphale could work through the feelings that had wormed their way into his heart over the past several weeks. He wasn’t anywhere close to understanding them completely, but night by night, the man found himself learning just a little bit more.

“Heavens sure are bright tonight, wouldn’t you say, angel?”

That was another clue that confirmed this was a dream. Crowley never called him ‘angel’ in the waking world. Crowley never acknowledged the fact that Aziraphale had saved his life. As far as Aziraphale knew, Crowley had no memory of that night. Sure, the serpent probably remembered the attack. He might have even remembered almost dying. And surely he remembered what must have been a long recovery afterward. But he didn’t remember Aziraphale. He didn’t remember the avian’s touch, or his tears, or the gentle song that drifted through the night around them. 

And for some reason, that thought made the avian’s heart ache more than he was willing to admit.

“Oh yes,” Aziraphale responded a moment too late, bringing forth a knowing smile onto the serpent’s pale lips. “Quite remarkable.”

“What is it?” Crowley asked, reaching out a hand to rest in the crook of Aziraphale’s elbow, pulling him to a gentle stop. The pressure was light, much lighter than it should have felt had this been anywhere else but a dream. Still, it was enough to make his heart race. 

“What is what?” The words bubbled to the surface as Aziraphale tensed beneath the touch. His eyes drifted up to the serpentine gaze and in that moment, the avian knew. He knew Crowley could sense every bit of hesitation within him. Every flutter of his heart, every tremble in his hands. Could sense the surge of desire currently rushing through every vein in his body.

Crowley snorted, bright white teeth flashing in the starlight. This close to him, Aziraphale should have felt afraid. He’d spent the entire twenty-one years of his life being told that a serpent’s smile was a thing of nightmares. That it was the very last thing an avian saw before the monstrous creature sunk its teeth into their necks and they were lost from this world forever.

Here, in this space of dreams where somehow only the two of them existed, Aziraphale felt no fear. Only longing. A longing that he knew was wrong. That didn’t make sense. A longing that he shouldn’t feel. But here, in the confines of his own mind, he allowed himself that one small thing. In the morning, he would wake up and the world would be back to the way it should be. But here, now, under the stars with Crowley’s lithe hand on his arm, tugging him closer, he allowed himself to truly feel.

“Don’t play coy with me, angel,” the dream-Crowley teased, his amber eyes practically glowing in the moonlight. “You know that I can read your mind.”

Aziraphale laughed at this, his eyes still enraptured by the serpent standing before him. The wide amber pools drew him in, rooting him to the place where he stood, making it impossible for him to do anything but watch Crowley’s face. Feel the man’s finger’s wrapping around his arm, caressing the skin there through the light fabric of his tunic.

“You and I both know that is a story told to scare children,” the avian pointed out, trying desperately to catch his breath. Why was his heart beating so fast? Why couldn’t he stop his hands from trembling? Why did he simultaneously want to run for the hills and pull this man close to him, wrapping his strong arms around the thin dancer’s frame? “You can sense emotions, that is hardly the same thing as reading every thought that comes into my mind.”

The red-haired serpent shrugged, amber eyes twinkling with mischief. “As far as I’m concerned, they are the same thing. I can feel your emotions, and based off what I know about you, I can easily figure out what it is you’re thinking in the moment.”

Breath hitched in Aziraphale’s chest as Crowley brought a hand up to trace the lines of his neck, up to his jaw before settling on his cheek. The avian’s stomach roiled with anticipation as he thought of what might be next. What were these feelings inside him? He’d never felt anything like this before and it scared him nearly as much as it excited him. He wanted to step closer. He wanted to feel more of Crowley’s pale skin against his own. He wanted to hear his voice whispering into his ear, the hot breath dancing across his skin. Oh, how he  _ wanted _ .

“For example,” Crowley continued, his eyes never leaving Aziraphale’s as the avian stood frozen before him. “Do you know what I’m feeling from you right now?”

“No,” Aziraphale lied as the words screamed out in his mind. Called out to be heard.  _ Desire, worry, longing, uncertainty, want. So much want. _

For a moment, Aziraphale thought the man might say one of those words out loud, confirm the very feelings he knew to be swirling around inside of him. This was, he knew, a manifestation of his own innermost thoughts. Perhaps this was Aziraphale’s way of dealing with his emotions. By tackling them here he could better deal with them in the real world. If this make-believe Crowley could identify them for him, Aziraphale could more easily take control. He could stop them, hold them back, make sense of them all before they rose up and consumed him.

Instead, Crowley said nothing, choosing to avert his gaze for the first time, closing his eyes and allowing Aziraphale the option to escape. With their stare severed, he could leave, if he wanted. Aziraphale could walk away, pretend this never happened. He could push his emotions back down into the depths of his very soul and go on living his life as he always had.

Aziraphale didn’t want to do that. Yes, they frightened him, but he wanted to understand these feelings whirling around inside of him. This ache in his chest whenever he thought about the serpent boy he’d left dying in the fields. Whenever he saw Crowley smile as he approached. Whenever he felt the serpent’s hand in his as he was led across the dance floor. Aziraphale had felt pain before. He’d felt sorrow and grief and despair. Anger. Resentment.

This was different. He wanted - he  _ needed _ \- to find out why.

When he opened his eyes again, Aziraphale saw plain as day, the reflection of his own desires in those amber pools, and a glimmer of...something else. Crowley took in a ragged breath through his nose, blinking one more time before he asked in a small, tentative, almost fearful voice.

“Kiss me?”

Aziraphale was leaning in before he had fully comprehended the words that had been said. His eyes fluttered shut, hands lying limply at his side, useless. A soft noise entered the space around them, but for the life of him Aziraphale could not tell whether it had come from within him, or the dream-Crowley he had created with his own mind. Was it his own desire being vocalized now in the darkness of the night, or was it his wish that Crowley might possibly want him back?

Is that what this was? Some kind of romantic pull he felt toward the serpent? Impossible. Crowley was serpiente. Not only that, he was a  _ man _ . The fact that Aziraphale felt any sort of trust or camaraderie toward the serpent was a miracle in itself brought on by his Tuuli Thea’s unwavering faith. Anything else was absolute insanity.

And yet. And  _ yet. _ Here he was. Eyes shut, the ghost of Crowley’s breath upon his own, this fire-bright yearning in his chest. He wanted this more than he’d wanted anything in his life. More than he’d ever wanted Claire and that realization alone  _ terrified _ him.

And yet.

The ghost of a sensation brushed up against Aziraphale’s lips. Light and firm and warm and cold all at once. A hint of a dream of what Crowley might feel like against him, and then, like all of the good things in his life, it was gone.

When he opened his eyes, there was sunlight all around him. A bed beneath him. The sound of other people drifting down the halls and Aziraphale knew beyond the shadow of a doubt, he was awake once more. 

* * *

“What is it you like to do?” Crowley asked out of the blue one afternoon as they were sitting outside together on the palace steps, enjoying the sunlight. Rather, Crowley was stretched out on the steps, tunic unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, basking in the first rays of spring. Aziraphale, based on the waves of anxiety rolling off him, was not enjoying anything. Instead, he was trying his best not to appear upset to the other dozen or so serpents currently strolling through the forum on their way to and from the marketplace.

Once a soldier, always a soldier, Crowley suspected. What other reason would Aziraphale have to be so nervous? He’d been to this area dozens of times in the past week they had known each other. Crowley saw Aziraphale here practically every day, sitting in this same spot along the edge of the staircase leading up to the palace. If he was worried for his own safety, why did he not stay in his chambers? Why come all the way out here if doing so was just going to make him more anxious?

“What?” the avian man asked, turning his attention to Crowley with a flick of his sky blue eyes. Confusion shimmered in the air around them and the serpent realized that his companion must not have been paying very close attention before. So, he elaborated.

“You know,” Crowley began, pointing his toes out as far as they could go, stretching the muscles in his overworked calves. “In your free time. When you aren’t guarding or sleeping. Obviously here, you’ve been spending time with me learning how to dance. What about at the Hawk’s Keep?”

“And don’t try to tell me,” the man continued when Aziraphale did not offer up an answer right away, “that dancing is your favorite hobby, because not only will I be able to sense that you are lying, but I simply won’t believe you. Don’t even need a sixth sense to tell.”

At this, Aziraphale laughed and the anxiety clinging to him peeled back a bit. Just enough for Crowley to feel the layer of joy beneath it. Aziraphale was...happy to be here with him. Talking with him, and laughing with him. It was a strange feeling, to be enjoyed like this. One he hadn’t felt in a very long time. 

“Well,” the avian man spoke up, leaning forward to rest his elbows upon his knees, hands folded in front of him. “If you must know, I like to pass the time reading.”

Amber eyes widened in shock. “Reading?” Whatever Crowley had been expecting, this hadn’t been it. What kind of soldier his free time reading? Of all the things he could have chosen to do. Crowley would have believed training, or hunting, or even gardening over _reading,_ but somehow when Aziraphale said it, the image felt right. He could picture this man curled up on a chair, next to a roaring fire or out in the spring sunlight, nose deep in a book, the rest of the world melting away. 

“Yes, Crowley,” the avian laughed again, a certain warmth shining through his eyes. Crowley paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on Aziraphale’s face. What was this feeling fluttering around in his stomach that seemed to occur whenever he looked at his companion too long, or whenever Aziraphale looked at him in that way? Why was it so easy for him to pick up on the emotions of others, but so difficult to understand his own? “I like to read. Textbooks mostly. The history of sword making. Martial arts techniques. Advanced Archery. You get the picture.”

If it was possible, the serpent’s eyes widened even further. “Really?”

“No!” Aziraphale exclaimed, another chuckle accompanying the word. Another bright smile that made Crowley’s heart flutter. “Of course not, dear boy. How dreadfully boring.”

At this, Crowley lost his composure, tilting his head back and letting loose a strong and rather loud laugh, catching the attention of several serpents as they passed by. Several of the men and women alike shot the dancer nasty looks, but he didn’t care. There was a fountain of joy welling up inside of the young man and nothing, not even judgmental serpiente, could bring him down now. Aziraphale was  _ teasing _ him. Aziraphale was laughing with him, enjoying his presence. And Crowley _liked_ it. He yearned for it. He wanted to stay in this moment for the rest of his miserable life.

“Fair enough,” Crowley consented, sitting up to face Aziraphale, turning his eyes back to those orbs that so brilliantly reflected the sky above them. It was mid afternoon now. Aziraphale had only been awake for an hour or so and the first thing he had done was find his way out here. Out into the open. Once again, Crowley wondered why the man liked to spend his time here. It was obvious he didn’t come here to mingle like many of the serpiente subjects did, and there wasn’t anything here he needed to purchase. Before Crowley came to join him, the avian was simply content to sit and watch. Was that enough? Did that make him happy, or was there something more he was missing? Something the Hawk’s Keep had that this palace did not.

“What kind of books?” Crowley asked, much quieter now as he turned his gaze away from Aziraphale and over to a crowd gathering at the very edge of the forum, near another entrance to the palace. He couldn’t be entirely sure, as he’d been looking the other way, but the red-haired serpent suspected that such an entourage could only mean one thing.

Zane and Danica were approaching.

“Well,” Aziraphale announced, rising to his feat, causing Crowley’s glance to snap back to him. “I suppose this is my cue.”

What was he talking about? His cue? For what?

A few seconds later and all his questions were answered. The crowds shifted slightly as they approached, revealing not one, not two, but eight horses. Packed and ready to go.

“You’re leaving?” Crowley asked as his chest suddenly felt very tight. He caught a glimpse of white-blonde hair and realized Adelina and Ailbhe were mounting their steeds alongside Andreios and another male avian soldier Crowley did not recognize. “Already?”

Aziraphale looked down at him with a soft smile and for the briefest of moments, Crowley thought he felt a flash of sorrow. A split second later, it was gone and Aziraphale’s body stood before him, but the avian was no longer there. He was met with a wall of emptiness where a flicker of warmth should have been.  Immediately, Crowley felt like he was going to be sick. He averted his gaze and tried to think of anything but the shell of a man still hovering by his side. The serpent remained on the ground, breathing in deeply, trying to steady his now trembling body.

_ No. _ His mind shouted loudly, wishing Aziraphale could hear.  _ Don’t do this. Don’t hide from me. I thought you were different than the rest of them. You’re different. You’re  _ real _. So why is this happening? Why now? What did I do? _

“Crowley, are you alright?”

It was the concern in his voice that convinced the serpent to look back up. No longer did he find himself face to face with a statue. Aziraphale was there once more. Soft, and warm, and  _ whole _ . Crowley breathed a sigh of relief and moved to stand, offering his hand out in a pleasant and somewhat friendly goodbye, desperately trying not to focus on the torrent of feelings that had just washed through him.

“Never better. Although,” he paused, bringing his hand back to rest at his side, trying not to focus on the tingle of sensation that danced across the parts of his skin that had touched the avian’s. “You still haven't answered my question. I like to think I've been waiting very patiently.”

Aziraphale laughed again, the concern melting away from his face as he began to descend the steps towards the royal party waiting for him, who had just now spotted him in the crowd. 

“That will have to wait until next week! Your patience will have to hang on a bit longer.”

Crowley scowled, but he could feel that both men knew it was an empty expression. Without another word, the serpent simply nodded his head in understanding and shot Aziraphale a soft smile that would be impossible to distinguish by anyone else further away. Once again, he felt a dull ache in his chest as the blonde-haired avian walked away. The bottom of his stomach felt like it was sinking further down into his body and, for a brief second in time, Crowley thought that maybe, just maybe, he felt that same sorrow echoing off the strange but intriguing avian soldier as he rode away and out of sight.

Maybe, just _maybe_ , Aziraphale was going to miss Crowley as much as the serpent was going to miss him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient everyone! My last fic just wrapped up, so this one has become my #1 priority. I've been doing a lot of brainstorming and reading back through Hawksong and I might be expanding this story a bit to add in a few more scenes and explore Crowley and Aziraphale's relationships with Zane, Danica, Andreios, Adelina and a few of the others. So if you see the expected chapter count move up as we go along, don't be alarmed :)
> 
> Also, if anyone knows any artists out there that they really enjoy or who might be struggling during these uncertain times, I really want to commission something for this story. Not sure what yet, so I am open to suggestions! If you have a favorite scene of something you'd like to see come to life, feel free to suggest it in the comments! :D


	10. Art: Prologue Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have found an artist! And oh my goodness, are you all in for a treat <3
> 
> This piece is brought to you by the amazing Kaykistar on Instagram. Not only were they an absolute delight to work with, but they actually know Hawksong! It was amazing to see these two stories I love so much brought together with such talent. I'm now feeling super inspired to work on finishing up the next chapter for you all. It should be out by the end of the week <3
> 
> If you have the time, please drop by and give the artist your love <3 they far surpassed all my expectations and I couldn't be happier with how this turned out :D
> 
> https://www.instagram.com/kaykistar/

* * *

_I wish to you sunshine, my dear one, my dear one  
_ _And treetops for you to soar past.  
I wish to you innocence, my child, my child   
I pray you don’t grow up too fast._

_Never know pain, my dear one, my dear one  
Nor hunger nor fear nor sorrow.   
Never know war, my child, my child   
Remember your hope for tomorrow._

_My prayer is simple, my dear one, my dear one_  
May you never need understand   
My prayer is for peacetime, my child, my child   
Live it well, and this life can be grand.


	11. Chapter 11

There was someone at his post already as Aziraphale landed upon the balcony on the sixth floor - nearly a hundred feet up above the ground. Danica and Zane had retired already, having endured a long day of travel on top of the normal duties of a queen and her king. Wanting to form something of a consistent schedule, Andreios had insisted that Aziraphale remain on the night watch. He didn’t work every night while they stayed at the Hawk’s Keep. There were other Royal Flight members here that could do the job, but the avian was still on duty more than he was off. As far as he was concerned, that was perfectly alright. Being a guard for Danica and her family had been all he’d ever wanted for himself for as long as Aziraphale could remember. He was happy to serve the royal family in whatever way he could.

So, when he turned the corner and saw another person - a man - hovering outside his queen’s bedchambers, Aziraphale’s first instincts were to stop dead in his tracks and survey the situation. If it was an intruder and they hadn’t spotted him yet, it would be best to stop all chances at making a sound until he knew what he was up against. Another avian, he could take in a heartbeat. If the man was serpiente, well...he didn’t want to get too close if he could avoid it. 

Heart in his chest, hand slowly moving to the dagger on his belt, Aziraphale’s eyes strained in the dim light. It didn’t look like the figure was doing much of anything but standing outside the room, facing away from the door. Hands folded properly in front of his waist, head turned outward, posture stiff and alert, like a soldier’s.

“Karl?”

The name escaped his lips before Aziraphale’s mind had quite caught up with the thought. At the sound, Karl turned, brown eyes narrowing in the torch lit hallway. He made no move to relieve his post. No explanation as to why he was here and not Andreios. The younger raven simply stared down at Aziraphale as the dove approached him, never once faltering in his stance.

“Where is Andreios?” Aziraphale was forced to ask when it was clear he would be getting no explanation from the young man before him. “I was supposed to relieve him this evening.”

“Oh,” the raven replied, as if he’d only just remembered Andreios had been at this very station at whatever time he’d arrived. “I volunteered to take up his post a bit early tonight, so he could get some rest. You all traveled a long way today.”

A frown made its way onto Aziraphale’s face. Karl wasn’t lying. At least, it didn’t appear that way. But if he had volunteered to take Andreios’ place, why had the crow not alerted Aziraphale to the change? Was he no longer needed tonight? Or was Karl supposed to be the one at Zane’s door today, but had taken it upon himself to switch without telling anyone?

“Who is manning the other station?” Aziraphale asked, wanting to give the younger man the benefit of the doubt. Karl was a good soldier. Strong, brave, and loyal to a fault. But he was young, new to the Royal Flight and from what Aziraphale could tell, didn’t quite understand or appreciate what it was Danica was trying to accomplish.

If Zane’s life were in danger tonight, Aziraphale wasn’t sure Karl would risk his own life to save that of his new king.

“One of _them_ ,” Karl responded, brown eyes darting to the floor. He knew, just as Aziraphale did, that he was out of line. The real question that remained was what would Aziraphale do about it?

His first instinct was to berate Karl. The raven had no real authority here - only Andreios pulled a higher rank and as far as seniority went, Aziraphale had at least two years on the young soldier. Karl had no ground with which to stand on. Not if Aziraphale made a move to claim what rightfully belonged to him.

Did that really matter right now? Karl was a good soldier - and a proud one at that. If Aziraphale chose to push back, he would likely stir up trouble. Causing a scene was the last thing Aziraphale wanted and he wasn’t about to go to Andreios with a complaint. Their leader was obviously stressed out about the current situation, having Shardae in what he considered to be a dangerous environment for weeks at a time. The captain of the Royal Flight had named Aziraphale his most trusted guard. His second in command. If the avian couldn’t handle a simple confrontation like this, he didn’t deserve the position at all.

“Probably best,” Aziraphale sighed, trying to let out all the tension in his body with that single breath. “That we send a member of the Royal Flight who is willing to do all that is required of them.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Karl demanded, an edge to his normally light tone.

“It means,” Aziraphale replied, too tired of this situation to be anything less than perfectly frank, “exactly what you think it means. It is better to have a guard outside Zane’s doors who is willing to do for him what is required of members of the Royal Flight. I wouldn’t trust you with his life, or any other serpiente, for that matter.”

Karl seethed and Aziraphale tried not to look too pleased with himself. He didn’t particularly enjoy putting his fellow soldiers down, but eventually they had to see that if this peace of Danica’s and Zane’s was going to work, they _had_ to start seeing the serpiente as real people. Not the enemy. “I look out for my kingdom above all else. Can the same be said for you, snake-lover?”

It wasn’t the most creative of insults, but the jab still stung. Is this the way his fellow guards saw him, apart from Andreios? Did they really think he fancied the serpiente so much he would _ever_ let something happen to Danica or Lady Nacola?

“Last I checked,” the dove continued, “their kingdom was a part of our kingdom now.” He paused, never breaking his gaze. “Or have you forgotten that the man you refuse to protect is your queen’s Alistair?”

The raven flinched at this, his deep brown eyes flickering to the side for the briefest of moments. For a second, Aziraphale thought he’d finally gotten through to Karl, but his hope was short-lived. Just as quickly as he had started to back down, the raven straightened his spine and looked the shorter man straight in the eyes, angling his head downward as much as he could without looking ridiculous, as if Aziraphale were something lesser than him. 

“You’re a fool if you believe this peace is permanent,” Karl grumbled, his normally jovial voice overflowing with the mistrust Aziraphale was so accustomed to seeing from his people. Karl was one of the most humorous and carefree avians he knew. Apparently, those characteristics did not apply when dealing with the serpiente. “They are a bunch of lying, dangerous murderers. Shardae will come to her senses eventually and we will find a way to win this war for good.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves welling up inside him. He’d been in the serpiente land more than any of the other members of the Royal Flight, apart from Andreios. While he was there, with Crowley, Aziraphale couldn’t help but come out of his shell a bit. There was something about the dancer that comforted him, made him feel like he didn’t have to hide behind a mask whenever he felt a shred of anything. That openness served him well in the serpiente court.

It would not serve him well here. 

“They are no more murderers than we are, Karl,” Aziraphale pointed out, trying not to think of the blood soaked fields and the cries of wounded soldiers. The silent screams of their loved ones as they watched body after body go up in flames. “You and me and the rest of the Royal Flight. We’ve killed just as they’ve killed.”

This completely logical, indisputable statement did nothing to calm his companion down. If anything, it pushed Karl further over the edge. Luckily, he was aware enough to realize that Danica’s chambers were just on the other side of the doorway he stood in front of. Keeping his voice to a low growl filled with menace, the younger avian leaned forward a bit, white teeth flashing in the torch light.

“How can you stand there,” he growled in a voice that was so uncharacteristically Karl, it took Aziraphale completely by surprise. This was more than just irritation or mistrust. This was unadulterated hatred. “And claim to be loyal to your people? Those _serpents_ killed our Tuuli Thea before Lady Nacola. They took from us a king, our princess, and the very member of the royal family _you_ swore to protect. They took Xavier Shardae from you. How can you stand to be in the same room in them, let alone associate with one of them?”

Ah. This was about his growing friendship with Crowley. Aziraphale wondered how long it would take for people to start talking. Apparently, a few weeks was all he was going to get before the accusations started flying. He understood their mistrust. This was all new for them. Earlier this year, the serpiente had been considered monsters in the night. Demons, to be feared and avoided at all cost, and now Danica Shardae was asking them to have faith. Faith could be hard, when all they’d known for millennia was fear.

“How are we any better?” Aziraphale challenged, his voice filled not with anger or resentment, but with an overwhelming sadness. He thought once more of that serpiente boy, fiery curls splayed out across his lap as Crowley lay dying. He thought of the man that boy had become. Vibrant, witty, _smart_. Talented and patient. Three years ago, had Aziraphale come across him in the lands between their kingdoms, he would have taken Crowley’s life in a heartbeat, with his own poisoned arrow. Now, the thought of any harm coming to the man filled his heart with despair.

“We killed their king and all his brothers. Three princes, a princess and an infant who had yet to draw her first breath.” He could feel his emotions threatening to get the better of him and Aziraphale shoved them down into the darkest, most remote parts of himself. “How could you possibly defend an act like that? That child was an innocent and both she and her mother were killed in cold blood. A knife buried deep in her stomach. Where is the justice? The compassion?”

He had said too much, Aziraphale knew. No one in the avian kingdom knew that baby had been female. No one in the avian kingdom _cared._ To them, she had only ever been a future threat. A member of the dreaded Cobriana line. A target to be taken out.

Aziraphale cared. Not at first, but that night by Crowley’s side had changed him, more than he cared to acknowledge at the time. When push came to shove, Aziraphale knew he would protect his Tuuli Thea. He would lay down his life for Danica. Stop anyone who meant her any harm, with lethal force, if necessary. But that didn’t mean he had to wish for war and conflict between their two kingdoms.

Did it?

“The first of our kind was a human woman,” Aziraphale finished in a voice barely more than a whisper. He took a step back and looked up at Karl, not bothering to hide the sorrow he knew that marred his face. He didn’t allow himself to cry, but the emotion was there. It unsettled Karl, he could tell, but something inside him shifted as the dove continued. “As was the first of theirs. I like to think that means there’s hope we can learn to live in peace with each other.”

He turned away after that, walking down the hall and around the corner where he knew Karl’s post was supposed to be. Aziraphale could have fought the insubordination, but he just didn’t have the heart. If Karl wanted to stand watch outside of Danica’s room tonight, he could face Andreios’ wrath in the morning.

As for Aziraphale, he was perfectly happy standing guard all night in front of a different door. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t much matter. Either way, _one_ of them would have to be standing outside Danica’s chambers, while the other was with Zane. If anything, their conversation tonight had revealed that Karl was not the cobra’s biggest fan. If there was an incident, could he be trusted to lay his life on the line for Zane’s sake?

Somehow, Aziraphale didn’t think so.

The first thing he saw upon rounding the corner was another figure standing by the doorway. It took all of half a second for Aziraphale to recognize the shoulder length blonde hair tied back at the nape of his neck, and the gleaming emerald eyes that glinted in the dim light of the hallway. 

Ailbhe, one of the few serpents Zane ever chose to make the journey with him into the Hawk’s keep. His sister, Adelina, was the one who stayed by his side during the day, leaving Ailbhe with the night shift.

He kept his eyes fixed on Aziraphale as the avian approached him, taking up the post on the opposite side of the door. In the darkness, it was difficult to get a read on the other man. Was he surprised to see Aziraphale here, when every trip up until now it had been another of the Royal Flight standing guard with him? Was he glad to see Aziraphale? Relieved that it wasn’t someone else who would gladly cut him down as soon as they were given permission to do so?

For a serpent so used to keeping their emotions on display for all to see, it was hard to tell what the other blonde was thinking as his emerald eyes danced in the torchlight. Aziraphale looked up, meeting his gaze, ignoring the sudden impulse to clam up or attempt to flee. He was just another serpent. Another _man._ Just like Crowley. How many times had Aziraphale looked into his eyes this past week and felt nothing but safe and secure? This was no different.

“How do you do it?” Ailbhe asked as the two men settled into their positions, eyes occasionally flickering to either side, looking for any signs of movement.

This time, Aziraphale turned his head toward the viper, but did not meet his gaze. Instead, he let his blue eyes roam over the broad shoulders and down to the opposite end of the hall. Still no sign of anyone. There hardly ever was.

“How can you stand to look at us,” the man continued when Aziraphale did not respond right away, “to interact with us, without allowing hatred to overwhelm you as they do?”

Aziraphale was silent for a long time. Not because he was ignoring the question, but because he didn’t quite know the answer. How was it that he was able to walk amongst the serpiente and not feel disgust, revulsion, or even fear? How was it that he could see them as people when none of the other avians could? Danica was trying - oh, how she was trying, but there were still plenty of moments where Aziraphale could tell she felt uncomfortable in the serpiente palace. He didn’t need to sense emotions to see that she was never quite at home there. None of them were, not really. But in Ailbhe’s eyes, and perhaps the rest of the serpiente court, it likely looked like the dove, out of all of them, was. Just a little bit.

“I feel anger,” he murmured eventually, careful to keep his voice low. Based on the nature of Ailbhe’s question, it was not unprecedented to assume it was possible to hear what was being said at the other end of the hall. “For what happened to the people that I loved. My parents. My brother. My pair bond. My best friend who was also my prince.” He took a deep breath, forcing the emotions that had begun to take root in his chest back down. Ailbhe shifted almost imperceptibly beside him. Aziraphale hardly took notice. 

“I feel frustration for the senselessness of it all,” the avian continued. “At our ancestors, for allowing this to happen. For not taking a stand to stop the killing. I feel fear and despair, that a thousand years of habit will be impossible to break. That this peace won’t last. That I’ll lose what little I have left.”

Finally, Aziraphale looked up at Ailbhe’s face to see a hesitant, guarded expression. But there was something else glimmering in the depths of his intense emerald eyes, prompting the dove to continue. 

“But I don’t hate you,” he admitted, thinking of the soft, amber eyes and fiery red hair of a very specific serpent. One that he most definitely didn’t hate. One that he might even - 

“Just as I don’t hate the members of my own kingdom who have killed,” Aziraphale continued, abruptly cutting off his own train of thought. Thoughts that he only permitted himself to have in the safety of his dreams. “We have all done unspeakable things in retaliation to the unspeakable things that have been done to us.” He paused, flashing a hesitant smile in the white viper’s direction. To his astonishment, Ailbhe actually smiled back.

“Isn’t it time we forgive yesterday, and look toward building a brighter tomorrow?”

The man opposite him nodded, reaching out a hand toward him. Feeling a sudden surge of courage and a tiny glimmer of hope, Aziraphale met him halfway, hand grasped firmly in Ailbhe’s as they shook briefly. He didn’t know exactly what this exchange meant, but as both soldiers turned their attention back to their surroundings and let the last echoes of their voices fade into the night, he felt a certain sense of accomplishment. A tentative understanding that had passed between them in that short, quiet conversation in the middle of the night. 

Perhaps things were starting to turn around after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Normally I try to have both Crowley and Aziraphale's perspectives in each chapter, but this one went on a bit longer than intended. I decided to go ahead and post Aziraphale's POV since it was done. Crowley's scene is in the works and should be up sometime tomorrow. Thanks for sticking with this story so far. I hope you all enjoy!


	12. Chapter 12

Crowley was bored.

Crowley was more than just bored. The serpent was anxious and frustrated and restless and distracted. He couldn’t sleep. Barely had an appetite, and lacked the motivation to do anything except hike through the forests around the palace and sit by the forum’s mosaic fountain, one foot up on the stone ledge as his fingers spread out beneath the cool waters, eyes never leaving the rippling surface.

Above all, Crowley was lonely.

It made absolutely no sense. Every which way he turned, he found himself surrounded by other serpents. People in the marketplace, the dancers that called Sha’Mehay home, soldiers doing their usual patrols throughout the palace and in the surrounding areas. There was not a single moment where he was by himself and yet, time after time the serpiente dancer found himself looking around for someone to talk to, always coming up empty. 

Nearly a week passed by before Crowley realized what his problem was. In reality, it wasn’t him at all that realized it. He might have been content to wallow in self-pity for weeks more if Irene hadn’t approached him and asked him to accompany her on an afternoon walk.

“Me?” he asked, like an idiot, causing his princess to burst out laughing. Crowley blushed, trying not to notice as every head in the vicinity turned to look in their direction. 

“Do you see any other red-haired serpent sulking by himself on a gorgeous day like today?” she teased, a glimmer of amusement in her garnet eyes. Crowley blushed, but did not try to hide his embarrassment. To begin with, doing such a thing would be considered beyond rude if he were in the presence of any of his other friends or acquaintances. To hide how he felt in front of his princess was practically a crime.

“I wasn’t sulking,” Crowley pointed out as he fell into step beside the young woman, aware that no fewer than three guards accompanied them. One out front, two further behind. A respectable distance that allowed them to talk privately if they wished, but close enough they could be there in an instant should any trouble arise. “I was just thinking. Deeply.”

Her red painted lips curled upward in a wicked sort of smile, and Crowley wished he had been wise enough to keep his mouth shut on the matter. “Thinking deeply about a certain white-haired dove?”

Heat rose to his cheeks, which was more than enough of an answer for Irene. She laughed, the sound of it causing Crowley to relax a bit. In that moment, with the sun shining down through the trees, casting dappled light on Irene’s pale face, her black hair shining underneath it, he thought of Gregory. Out of all the Cobriana children he’d known, Gregory was most similar to his next elder sister. They both had the same calm demeanor, the same love for life and laughter. In that moment, she looked so much like him that it brought tears to Crowley’s eyes and an ache to his chest. One that he hadn’t felt since the day Zane had announced his choice in Naga for the world to hear.

“It’s nothing like that,” Crowley grumbled in a way that said to anyone listening that it was, in fact,  _ exactly  _ like that. No matter what he tried to convince himself of otherwise. 

They made their way out of the palace grounds and into the nearby forest, walking along the path that eventually led to Sha’mehay. There were many paths that wound through this area, and based on Irene’s leisurely pace, he suspected that while they may end up at the dancer’s nest eventually, the princess he was accompanying was going to take her time getting there. The scenic route seemed to be calling them, and who was Crowley to ignore it?

Besides, the day was nice. Warm sunlight came spilling through the gaps in the trees and the serpent soaked it all in. Silence stretched between the pair as they walked, but the dancer found that he didn’t mind so much. This was good, being out here in the fresh air, moving his limbs a bit. Sure, Crowley danced every day and got more than enough movement to last him a lifetime, but there was something different about working to perfect a dance, knowing that every twitch of his muscles mattered, and strolling through a forest, where it didn’t change anything at all whether he bared right or left when coming to a fork in the rode. He hardly had to think about where he was going at all, choosing to let Irene take the lead. Which left his mind plenty of time to think about a certain white haired, avian man, who Crowley was beginning to realize he missed more than he’d initially thought.

What was Aziraphale doing now? It was mid afternoon, about an hour or so after he typically woke up when residing here in serpiente lands. Was he still on the night shift now that he was back at the Hawk’s Keep? Or did he get those weeks off in preparation to travel back here?  _ Would  _ he be coming back here at the end of the following week? Zane and Danica had been on a two week rotation, travelling back and forth between the kingdoms. Adelina and Ailbhe had always traveled with Zane, but the members of the Royal Flight seemed to change each time apart from their leader, Andreios, and Aziraphale. 

It was funny how over the course of just a few weeks Crowley’s errant musings went from thoughts of a faceless angel to ones of Aziraphale. He’d already established that his new avian friend wasn’t the man that had saved his life. No matter how much he wished it to be true. Aziraphale was kind, and thoughtful, and unlike anything he thought an avian could be. Deep down, Crowley  _ wanted _ Aziraphale to be the one who had saved him. It would make things so much easier for him, to know that the angel in his dreams was alive and well. To know that Crowley knew him, that he enjoyed Crowley’s presence and wanted to spend time with him.

To know that saving his life hadn’t been a fluke. That the care and concern had been genuine. If Aziraphale had been the one, it would make all these feelings that swirled around inside of him each and every day a little bit easier to understand. 

More and more, Crowley found that he didn’t care. As the days stretched on, he found himself yearning not for the angelic voice that had sung to him, soft hands lightly brushing his hair, but for the bright smile that spread wide as they danced. For the glimmer in his blue eyes each time Crowley made Aziraphale laugh.

And that thought frightened him more than he cared to admit.

Tugging his mind forward, back to the area around him, the serpiente dancer saw that they had arrived at a small garden. Surrounded by tall pine trees, tucked in this remote corner of the forest was a tiny bubbling fountain. Several benches had been laid around it, with bunches of wildflowers beginning to peek through the barren soil. The dirt beneath his feet was soft and muffled their footsteps as they approached, but even with the lack of noise, the lone woman already seated in the peaceful grove must have sensed them. For a moment later, she turned to fix her bright sapphire eyes on them, long black hair piled elegantly atop her head in a mix of intricate braids Crowley could only hope to replicate on his own.

“M’lady Charis,” he murmured in surprise, stuttering to a halt. Irene chuckled under her breath as she reached out to grasp his arm and tug him forward, keeping him in motion as she moved to join her mother in front of the stone rimmed fountain.

Charis, Zane and Irene’s mother and the former Naga of the serpiente kingdom, smiled warmly at him, gesturing at the younger serpent to join her in what was obviously a sacred space. Crowley’s heart fluttered nervously in his chest and although he knew both royal women could feel it, he hoped it had not lessened their opinion of him as he made for a place opposite them, taking his seat on the edge of the stone structure, careful to avoid any puddles from the previous night’s rainfall.

“How long has this been here?” Crowley found himself asking, amber eyes travelling over the hidden garden. Tiny buds had managed to poke their way through the decaying leaves and needles winter had left behind and were just now starting to unfurl their petals. The dancer spotted an array of colors - pinks and yellows mostly, with the occasional blue or purple. It was strange, seeing these colorful hues lacking the staple green to go along with them. Beneath his feet, the ground was almost entirely brown and did not look like anything capable of producing a garden such as this.

And yet, the flowers bloomed anyway.

“Donovan had it built for me,” Charis explained, speaking of her late husband, the kingdom’s former Diente, “when I was expecting Anjay. We used to come here together every other day or so, just to get away from it all for a while.” She sighed, breathing in the air around her as blue eyes fluttered shut momentarily. “To remind ourselves that while we were Diente and Naga, we were also husband and wife. Father and mother.” A soft smile made its way onto her face as her gaze shifted over to Irene, who had joined one of the soldiers on the bench next to Charis’. “I brought Sisal here when we learned she was expecting, and again with Irene.”

Mother and daughter shared a soft smile and Crowley suddenly felt very out of place. He felt as if he were an impostor, creeping in on some kind of intimate moment between the two women. Invading their sacred space with his tangled thoughts and twisted heart. What right did he have to be here, of all places?

Except, Irene had brought him here. Crowley looked over at her, his amber eyes displaying every emotion he currently felt, asking her the questions he could not bear to say out loud. This really was a beautiful place, and the thought that this family wanted him here baffled the serpent. He may not understand it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be sent away either.

“I thought bringing you here might cheer you up,” the young woman replied. She was barely a few months older than he was, but in that moment, sitting on the bench beside her mate, his arm around her shoulders, her hand resting gently on her belly that had only recently begun to show, Irene looked so much more an adult than her nineteen years would have suggested. “You looked so down when I spotted you in the forum. I thought you might enjoy this place.”

Crowley found that all he could do was nod, the words momentarily getting stuck in his throat. Breaking her garnet gaze, he looked around at the flowers again, tracing them around the edge of the fountain and up the ivy that clung to its side, over to the shimmering surface of the water. There were several fish there, swimming around, in and amongst the submerged greenery. Fish the size of his outstretched palm, with black and white and orange markings that reminded him a bit of a roaring fire, or the last light of a summer’s sunset.

“But this place is so…” he trailed off, unable to find the words to describe such a space. Even the term ‘heaven on earth’ didn’t seem to capture it quite right. “This is your place. Your family’s. Why would you bring me here?”

To his surprise, it was Charis who answered him. She leaned forward in her seat, the satin of her deep green dress shimmering with each minute movement. A warm presence appeared on his hand and it took Crowley an embarrassingly long time to realize that his former Naga was sitting there opposite him, holding his hand. So gently, as if he might break should she squeeze it too hard.

“Gregory asked us not to intervene in his private life,” Charis explained, her sapphire eyes reminding him, briefly, of Aziraphale’s. They were much brighter than his, though they held a similar shade. Sharper, more intense. The eyes of a python. A serpent. Jeweled and bright and brilliant. Not at all like the soft blue orbs that now haunted his dreams, the color of a summer’s sky. “He wanted whoever he chose for a mate to choose him back for who he was. Not because they felt pressured by any of the royal family.”

“But I - “ the young man replied, cursing himself and wishing he was more eloquent in nature. “We never - “

The mother’s sad smile stopped him in his tracks. Once again, feelings of sorrow and of guilt rose up within him as he thought of his prince - his friend. Crowley tried not to think about Gregory much. Apart from his parents, who had died soon after he was born, he’d not had a close friend killed in battle apart from the Cobriana prince. Crowley’s closest friends were mostly dancers, like himself. Civilians, not trained for battle. Sure, there were Adelina and Ailbhe, but so far, they had managed to keep themselves safe during the war. They had always come back in one piece.

Gregory had not, and every day, Crowley wished that had been different.

“We may not have been privy to the details,” Irene amended, sorrow reflected in her own eyes as she thought of her younger brother. “But we would have to be blind not to realize how fond of you he was. When he danced with you, Crowley, he came  _ alive _ . More than I ever saw him in any other aspect of his life.”

“We just assumed,” Charis continued, giving his hand a soft squeeze, “we  _ hoped _ that eventually you would become a part of this family. Had things been different, I like to imagine Gregory would have brought you here someday.”

“But,” Crowley protested, feeling tears bubble up inside him. Blinking to try and clear them only served to push them over, allowing the moisture to stream down his cheeks in hot, wet streaks. “He’s gone,” Crowley murmured, voice barely more than a whisper. Guilt welled up inside him to think about how much his friend had cared for him, and how Crowley had never given him the time of day. He’d been too wrapped up in the ghost of a dream to truly notice what had been standing there right in front of him. And now it was too late. “He and I can’t - we’ll never be together like that now. I don't understand.”

Charis wordlessly reached into the sleeve of her dress and pulled out a handkerchief for him to use. Graciously, Crowley took it, using the fabric to wipe at the mess on his face, feeling an overwhelming affection rising within him for these two women who had so graciously welcomed him into their family where he obviously didn’t belong.

“That doesn’t change things for us, Crowley,” Irene explained, leaning into her mate as he drew her closer to his side. “Gregory cared for you so much. And because of that,  _ we _ care for you. More than I think you realized before today.”

Crowley nodded, not sure what else he could say. This was more than just Irene or Charis being nice and comforting him over a lost friend. They truly did see him as part of the Cobriana family, and apparently had for some time. He was simultaneously touched and taken aback by such a revelation. 

“That being said,” Charis continued, her hand still resting gently on his. “As a mother, I think it important to remind you that, above all else, he would have wanted you to be happy. Gregory may be gone, but that doesn’t mean that we stop living our lives. That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to find someone to care about you just as much, in the ways that he did.”

Finally, she released his hand, a soft smile appearing on her lips as Crowley’s face flushed once again. He and Gregory had shared a close friendship. A series of kisses here and there but never something as grand and romantic as Irene and Charis might have hoped for. Maybe, had Gregory survived, that would have been different. It was impossible to know how things would have turned out.

All he knew now was that there was something slowly beginning to bloom between him and Aziraphale. Like these buds slowly pushing their way through the winter’s soil around him, Crowley had these  _ feelings _ for the avian man. He enjoyed Aziraphale’s company. Wanted to be around him every waking moment. Wanted to laugh with him, and talk with him, and learn all there was to know about him.

Missed him when he was gone.

“I don’t know what that looks like,” he admitted softly, “my happiness.” He trained his amber eyes first on Lady Charis, then over to Irene, then back to his former Naga. She smiled at him, knowingly, as he always imagined a mother would, and Crowley allowed another fresh wave of tears to spill over on his recently dried skin as she answered.

“I think that you do.” Silence filled the space around them for a moment as the older woman’s sapphire eyes glistened in the dappled light. “And we both want you to know that you don’t have to be afraid to pursue it.” Another heartbeat as the forest around them fell quiet. “Not for our sake. And certainly not for your own.”

“What should I do?” He felt lost, like a child abandoned in the forest, left behind by his parents to fend for himself. “How do I find it?”

Irene was the one who answered him this time, with the most appalling suggestion that made his heart race to think about it. “Ask to go with him next time,” she asserted, garnet eyes gentle. “Zane will be pleased to see someone taking initiative. I am sure he will allow it, so long as Danica has no objections.”

Ask to go to the Hawk’s Keep? It was a daring suggestion, but one that excited Crowley more than he thought it would. He could accompany them to the avian kingdom next time, if Zane allowed it. He could see Aziraphale’s home. Meet his friends, his family.

_ He could find his angel. Could see if he was still alive. _

Would that change things? If Crowley found the man who had saved his life, what would he do? And how would that affect his friendship with Aziraphale? Would he fall madly in love with this man, or would he thank him and be on his merry way? Would the angel be happy to see him alive? Or would he have already forgotten Crowley? It had been a single night, three years ago. And while it had undoubtedly changed the course of Crowley’s life, it may have meant nothing to the man who had knelt by his side.

Once again, Crowley’s thoughts returned to Aziraphale. His heart ached at the thought that anything he did might ruin whatever it was that had been building up between them. If Crowley traveled to the Hawk’s Keep and found the man who had saved his life - if that action alone changed how Aziraphale felt about him, or how Crowley felt about the avian man, he found that he would rather not go at all. Let dreams stay dreams, as far as he was concerned. So long as Aziraphale stayed in his life, for as long as the universe would let him.

For the first time since he’d opened his eyes that fateful morning and saw the angel kneeling over him, white wings splayed wide, Crowley thought that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to know. Maybe, just maybe, he could find his happiness not in a half remembered dream, but in the reality that was standing right here before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you go! Two chapters in two days :) this was originally supposed to all be in one, but both sections got a bit long, so I split them up for you. I've got one more chapter coming up of interactions between Aziraphale and Crowley before we jump back into some events specific to Hawksong. So, those of you who have read the book, fear not. The plot you know and love will resume momentarily!


	13. Chapter 13

Aziraphale was in trouble.

He knew that to be an absolute fact the second the pair of ornate wooden doors opened before him and the avian found himself face to face with the most beautiful library he had ever seen - rivaling that of even the Hawk’s Keep. It was several stories high, with books lining every inch of the walls. Wide windows were spread out in between the shelves along the exterior walls, letting in more natural light than he thought possible and making the space feel more open than any other place in the palace he’d been to. Above them was a wide, arched glass ceiling that displayed every inch of the brilliant colors beginning to take over the evening sky. The sight of it all took his breath away.

“So?” Crowley asked, hardly able to contain his excitement, “What do you think? You didn’t give me much to go on when you left last week, so I had to improvise.”

A soft snort of amusement escaped through Aziraphale’s nostrils as the avian took in the wonder before his eyes, his heart fluttering in his chest like a hummingbird trapped in a cave. “So you decided to gift me with an entire library?”

The serpent shrugged, his amber eyes dancing with amusement at what must have been a gobsmacked expression on Aziraphale’s face. The avian couldn’t help it. No one had ever done something like this for him before, and he found himself yearning to know why. Was Crowley trying to extend a hand of friendship? Did he want Aziraphale to feel more at home at the serpiente palace during the weeks he was here?

“I would have just found you a book,” he explained as he sauntered inside, casually slipping his hands into the deep pockets of his bright emerald pants. Aziraphale’s eyes were drawn to them, both for their intense color and for the hint of skin that peeked through the slit in the fabric, running all the way from the sinch of the pants at Crowley’s ankles, up to the middle of his thigh. As soon as the avian realized what he was doing, he averted his gaze, forcing those blue eyes to look at anything else nearby. The dozens of shelves creating aisle after aisle to peruse. The red carpeted stairs leading up to the second and third floors, or even the bridges that passed from one side of the room to the other up above them. Anything but the serpent walking beside him and the hint of his bare skin and the way his hips swayed back and forth as he walked.

Aziraphale was in so much trouble.

“But you wouldn’t tell me which kind you liked,” Crowley continued as they made their way to the back of the large hall and toward a massive three paneled window, reaching all the way up to the glass covered ceiling. Outside, Aziraphale could see a bright green garden coming to life, with trees blossoming their pink and white hues, petals falling down like snow in the gentle breeze. “Figured this was the best way not to mess up.”

Aziraphale’s heart thudded painfully in his chest as he forced himself to look Crowley in the eyes. They were so bright and filled with joy, he couldn’t help but smile.

“It is certainly one of the loveliest things I’ve ever had the pleasure to see,” he admitted softly, hoping beyond hope that the serpent standing beside him couldn’t sense how he was falling apart inside. The words felt false on his tongue, and though it technically hadn’t been a lie, Aziraphale knew he was biting back the truth with every syllable he uttered

_ I say ‘one of the loveliest’ to avoid saying that you win that prize without question.  _ For it was Crowley, in Aziraphale’s eyes, that deserved that title, and nothing else. Crowley was the loveliest thing he had ever seen, with his lithe body and flaming red hair, and eyes the color of a summer’s sunset. Crowley, not this library filled with its wide arches and clear windows, and rows upon rows upon rows of books, that Aziraphale wanted to spend his days exploring. But he could never bring himself to say such things out loud. And that realization alone brought along with it a dual flash of sorrow and shame.

Because wasn’t avoiding the truth just as bad as uttering a lie?

“Well, come on now,” the serpent teased, a grin tugging at his lips. Aziraphale swallowed, suddenly overwhelmingly nervous and on edge. Usually, wide open spaces like this made him feel at home. This space was certainly wide enough to spread out his wings and take flight, should he need to, but Aziraphale wasn’t worried about that possibility right now. He was worried about these... _ feelings _ that were now bubbling up inside his chest everytime he looked at the serpent beside him. “Pick one out.”

Aziraphale’s heart did a somersault inside him, reminding him of one of the more complex dances he had seen Crowley perform just the other week. His eyes drifted around the room, taking note of how the shelves appeared to be organized so he knew where to look upon future visits. For there would be future visits. Aziraphale could very easily see himself spending his free time here. Of course, there would still be visits to the forum, especially as the days grew more pleasant. Spring was just now in its infancy and based on previous years, that meant summer was just around the corner.

Still, wouldn’t it be lovely to spend the later parts of the afternoon basking in the sunlight? Settled into one of those wide, comfortable looking chairs, or maybe even a lounge with a book in his hand and Crowley curled up beside him, head in his lap. Red curls practically on fire in the sunlight. Gazing up at him with those gorgeous, breathtaking amber - 

What was wrong with him? He couldn’t be thinking things like this. Crowley was a serpent, for one, and furthermore, he was a  _ man _ . It would never work between them. Aziraphale knew that much for a fact. So why could he not get this man out of his head? Why did his heart feel this way, and how in the world was he supposed to get it to stop?

“Do you have any books with stories from the old days in them?” the avian asked after a moment, meeting Crowley’s gaze and forcing down his joy at the other man’s wide smile. For a moment, Aziraphale thought he saw the amber eyes flicker with discomfort. Thought he saw a grimace tug at that stunning smile, but the next moment, all hints of sorrow had vanished and he saw the flash of pearly white teeth, no sharper or more fanged than any avian man’s he’d seen. 

“No clue,” the serpent teased. “Not much of a reader myself, but there are a lot of books here.” He paused, gesturing in a wide circle around them. “I’m sure if we work together, we can find something to satisfy you.”

Despite the knowledge that he should not feel this way, Aziraphale could not stop the thrill of joy that flooded his entire body. Crowley had shown great kindness in bringing him here today, and doing so would have been more than what was required of their tentative friendship. And yet, it would appear as though Crowley, who had just admitted to  _ not _ spending his free time reading, wanted to stay. With Aziraphale. Just for the sole reason of his company.

The thought of it made him giddy with excitement. He wanted to take Crowley by the hand and lead him down through the aisles. Have him explain all the different legends and lore of his people while Aziraphale sought out illustrations and read passages from books centuries older than the both of them. He wanted to curl up together, Crowley’s head resting against him, the serpent dozing while he read the words aloud. He wanted to run his fingers through those locks of red hair again, and perhaps, if he was feeling brave enough, lean in for a soft kiss against the other man’s temples.

Yes. Aziraphale was in trouble. Very much trouble, indeed. 

* * *

Things were going well.

At least, as far as Crowley could tell, he  _ thought _ things were going well. Aziraphale had liked the surprise, that much was obvious. From the moment they’d stepped into the room, however, the man seemed to be on edge, and for the life of him, Crowley couldn’t pin down why.

Reading and sensing emotions was difficult. Half the time, the person feeling them didn’t even understand what they were experiencing, so the waves of emotions tended to get lost in the confusion. He thought Aziraphale was happy. The man was smiling enough for the both of them, but Crowley couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. 

Maybe it was just his ability to read his friend that was askew. The other avians that came here were cold and distant and practically lifeless. They held to their stoic ways, devoid of any feeling at all. Not Aziraphale, though. Aziraphale was different, and Crowley loved him for it.

Was that what this was? Crowley looked over from his seat opposite the man. The avian had chosen a small handful of books and settled himself into a seat by the large bay window. Crowley had half hoped that when the time came, Aziraphale might have found his way to the long couch stretched out beneath it so the two could sit side by side, but this worked just as well. In choosing the armchair, Aziraphale had given Crowley the perfect opportunity to curl up in a wide beam of sunlight, enjoying the warmth as he snuck glances at the golden haired man, nose buried deep inside the first tome in his stack.

Crowley’s heart fluttered inside his chest as he noted the crease along Aziraphale’s brow. The soft peek of fingertips appeared at the corner of the page as the avian turned it, moving along in the story at a surprising pace. It was a collection of legends, if Crowley remembered correctly. Tales of Anhamarik and of the first serpiente people. There might even have been a few stories thrown in there about Ahnmik, the land of the falcons. Of Empress Cjarsa and the rest of the magical creatures that call Ahnmik home.

Whatever the story, Aziraphale appeared engrossed in it. His waves of restlessness and anxiety from earlier had quelled into a pool of comfort and contentment and Crowley was moved to tears at the sight of it. Aziraphale was a soldier, and an excellent one at that. Even when they spent time together in the forum, he always seemed to be a bit on edge. The feelings were understandable, he thought. Crowley had been told his entire life that the avian people were bloodthirsty, soulless monsters. He grew nervous at just the thought of what travelling to the Hawk’s keep might be like were Zane to grant him permission to go next time. Aziraphale had been coming here for weeks now, surrounding himself with a people who he had likely been told to fear and hate. Seeing him here now, completely at ease with the book upon his lap, the rest of the world forgotten, filled Crowley with a feeling the likes of which he had never known before.

Was this what love felt like? This steady comfort and simultaneous yearning for more? Crowley was happy. He was comfortable in his chair. Warm, safe, and thankful that this avian chose to be here, spending time with him before his shift was scheduled to begin. Although he much preferred listening to stories over reading them, Crowley couldn’t think of a better way to spend his afternoon. He wanted to spend all his afternoons with Aziraphale.

And yet, he knew he could be happier. He knew that if Aziraphale lifted his brilliant blue gaze from those pages and smiled at him, Crowley’s heart would soar completely out of his chest. He knew that if Aziraphale offered, Crowley would take his hand and follow him wherever he wanted to go. He knew how Aziraphale’s hand felt. How could he not, after weeks of dancing with him in sha’Mehay? A deep yearning settled within him as he continued to sneak glances at the avian man. What he wouldn’t give for that hand to hold him as gently as Aziraphale now held the old book in his possession. Crowley was surprised at the intense want of it. Tears pricked at his eyes and a heavy weight settled on his chest.

Did Aziraphale want that? He seemed to enjoy Crowley’s company well enough, but did he yearn for it? Did thoughts of Crowley keep him up at night? Did he struggle to shake off the memory of Crowley’s skin against him as they danced? Crowley wanted Aziraphale so much, it  _ hurt _ . He could feel it now, the gentle aching of his heart. Wishing to be closer. To lay his head in the avian’s lap, feel Aziraphale’s fingers in his hair. Pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss. He would give almost anything to have that be his reality.

“Are there others like you?” Crowley found himself asking, the sudden noise breaking the spell of sorrow that had briefly overtaken him, for a while anyway.

Aziraphale looked up, a soft cloud of confusion momentarily overtaking him. “Pardon?” he asked, and Crowley felt his cheeks begin to burn. How ridiculous he must sound right now, just blurting out whatever was on his mind and shattering their comfortable silence.

“You’re a dove, right?” Crowley asked, almost certain this was the case. He didn’t know much about avian culture, but A’isha has used the term ‘dove-let’ on more than one occasion. It would be stupid of him not to draw some sort of conclusion from that. “I’ve only seen a dozen or so avians by now, mostly soldiers, except for Danica. And you’re the only one I’ve ever seen with blonde hair.”

The avian closed his book slowly, eyes flickering down for a moment as if to memorize his page so he could return to that spot later. “There are some,” Aziraphale responded, and Crowley was grateful his friend could not sense emotions like he could. How embarrassing it would be to reveal how his heart filled with hope at those three simple words, even as the very object of Crowley’s affections was sitting right before him. 

Even now, three years later, Crowley could not seem to be rid of his ghostly angel.

“Doves are not inherently native to this area,” Aziraphale explained. “My ancestors came over shortly before the war began. Some left once the fighting started. Others chose to stay. There aren’t nearly as many of us as sparrows or crows, but I am by far the only one.”

Crowley nodded, doing his best to pretend his heart wasn’t about to explode with anticipation. What was he doing? Surely, he wasn’t about to tell Aziraphale what had happened to him all those years ago? What did it matter, who had saved him back then, if what he wanted was here with him now? “Do you have any siblings?”

The blue eyes faded in brightness for a moment, and Crowley wanted to smack himself with his insensitivity. He knew firsthand what this war had done to families of all shapes and sizes.What made him think, even for a moment, that Aziraphale’s experience had been any different from his own?

“I had a brother,” the avian finally breathed, and Crowley could tell by the weight of sorrow in the air that while Aziraphale missed the other man, the loss was not a recent one. “Gabriel. He was older, by several years. I looked up to him a great deal. Wanted to be just like him. I was nine when my parents passed away. He was the only family I knew.” A deep, shaky breath entered the avian’s lungs and, for a moment, he closed his eyes, as if remembering something very precious. “I was sixteen when he died.”

Without thinking, Crowley leaned forward and slipped his hand into the one dangling from Aziraphale’s lap. Blue eyes grew wide for a moment and Crowley had a brief flash of fear that he’d done something wrong. That Aziraphale was about to pull away from him. Shut him out and turn once more into a soulless statue of a man, but that moment never came. Instead, he was met with a soft, sad smile and a gentle squeeze of understanding. As if Aziraphale knew what Crowley was unable to say. As if he knew that Crowley, too, had suffered a loss. And of course he knew. What man or woman alive could say that they hadn’t?

“Life moves on, though, doesn’t it?” the avian asked, keeping his hand firmly in place. His eyes rose to meet Crowley’s and for a second, the serpent thought he might just lean in and kiss Aziraphale. He certainly wanted to, more so than anyone else he’d kissed in his lifetime, but something held him back. Perhaps it was the setting, and the dozen or so serpiente eyes that could fall on them at any moment. Perhaps it was the fear of Aziraphale deciding that enough was enough and shutting Crowley out for good. And perhaps it was the realization that he cared for this avian, more than he ever thought possible, and Crowley wanted to hear what he had to say. He wanted to listen when Aziraphale spoke. He wanted to be a comfort to his friend. 

“Life moves on and we learn to live through it.” A smile accompanied by a soft brush of his thumb across the back of Crowley’s hand was all it took for the serpent to feel like he was flying above the stars. “And I, for one, am surprised at how much I am looking forward to doing just that.”

“Yeah,” Crowley echoed, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face as he released Aziraphale’s hand and settled back into his chair for the remainder of their time together. Tingles danced across the space where the avian’s touch had been and Crowley knew he would be imagining that warm feeling for days to come until he might be able to steal another brush or hint or touch of Aziraphale’s skin against his. “So am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone! I hope you all have been doing well. Sorry this chapter took so long to get to you. This past month has been very busy with work and I've also been working on a Good Omens/Avatar the Last Airbender fic that has taken up much of my time. The good news is, the next chapter is already mostly written (it was the first scene I ever wrote for this fic) so, if all goes well, I should have that up in the next week or so.
> 
> Thank you all for being so patient with me :) I'm really enjoying this story a lot. Rediscovering this world has been an absolute delight and I'm so happy you are here to share in it with me. See you all again soon!
> 
> P.S. Yes, this scene may have been inspired by Beauty and the Beast. *shrugs* it's a cute scene :) I stand by it


	14. Chapter 14

There was music drifting down the hall - music that was out of place here. Not because of the way it sounded, exactly, as it echoed off the stone walls, drifting down the hall towards him. Aziraphale recognized a beautiful rendition when he heard one, and this one was no exception. It wasn’t the way the song was being played, but the actual song itself that surprised him.

Someone was playing ‘Hawksong’, an avian lullaby. It was one he was painfully familiar with. A song that never failed to remind him of his parents, and the way their family had been before the pair of them had died. It was also the very same song he had sung to Crowley three years prior as the young serpent boy had laid dying in a field, his head resting gently on Aziraphale’s lap.

As soon as he recognized it, the avian froze in place. There weren’t that many people milling about the halls. The week was drawing to a close and spring was in full force now. The majority of the kingdom had found something to do outdoors, whether it be dancing or visiting the marketplace, or simply sitting out under the garden trees and enjoying the last light of sun as it set beyond the horizon. Hearing anyone playing music at all might have been considered an oddity at this hour, but that particular song? It clawed at Aziraphale’s heart, threatening to stop it where it currently fluttered in his chest. Knees knocking together, breath struggling to enter his lungs, the avian fixed his jaw and pushed his emotions away, just for a moment. Just long enough to gather his wits about him and pull himself together.

There was no reason to get all worked up. Aziraphale breathed in, long and deep. It was just music. Just a collection of notes strung together. Sure, that specific collection of notes meant a lot to him. It had meant a lot when he was younger, and even more so now that his heart thought of Crowley whenever he heard it. But that didn’t mean he had to lose his head over it now. Anyone could be playing that song. It could be Danica, or one of the other guards. Or a serpent who had overheard the tune in passing. Just because it was familiar, didn’t mean - 

Aziraphale’s heart stopped when he rounded the corner and the red-haired serpent came into view. Crowley was seated on the dias, a small lyre perched on his lap. He was plucking at the strings with practiced hands, the familiar melody drifting up into the air around him as the serpent hummed along.

Crowley’s hair was loose, not tied back like it usually was when he danced. It hung in curls down to his shoulder blades, a single strand falling in front of his eyes. Aziraphale had the sudden urge to walk over to him. To sit down beside the serpent and reach over with a steady hand, tucking the fiery hair back behind Crowley’s ear where it belonged.

The evening sun filtered in through the windows in the ceiling, casting beams of light down around them. One of them fell directly over Crowley’s form, lighting up his features. Every crease in his brow, every line of concentration around his lips as he lifted up his voice in song.

He was the most beautiful creature Aziraphale had ever seen. All the avian could do was stand in the doorway and watch breathlessly as the music swirled around them both. His blue eyes never once left the other man’s face. How could they, when Crowley was very obviously weaving some kind of magic spell around the pair, tempting him closer, drawing him in. Aziraphale would have been beside him in an instant if his mind hadn’t completely been captured by the sound of that lyre and Crowley’s sweet, soft voice, as the rest of the world vanished around him.

“Aziraphale.” The music stopped suddenly when Crowley looked up and spotted the avian there, standing in the doorway. Suddenly, everything snapped back into focus. Aziraphale felt a frown make its way onto his face and before he knew it, he was stepping forward to approach the serpent.

“Don’t stop on my account, dear boy,” he supplied. “That was really quite lovely.”

It would have been impossible to miss the blush that suddenly flooded Crowley’s cheeks, even as he shifted over to make room for Aziraphale, plunging his face into shadows. Slowly, so he didn’t break the spell that had been cast over them, Aziraphale took a seat beside the serpent, close enough that they could talk in private, but just far enough away that there was still a respectable distance between them.

“It was nothing,” Crowley protested, his amber eyes flicking down toward his feet. “Just a little melody I like playing sometimes.”

Aziraphale paused for a moment, certain Crowley could sense how quickly his heart was thrumming inside of his chest. He hadn’t known the serpent had remembered anything about that night three years ago, but Aziraphale’s lullaby had obviously stuck with him. Did Crowley remember anything else? Surely, if he had remembered Aziraphale’s presence, he would have said something by now. Perhaps he only remembered the music.

If Aziraphale said anything now, would that change? Did he want Crowley to remember him? Or did he like things better between them the way they were now? Aziraphale didn’t even know how he felt about whatever this  _ thing  _ was between Crowley and himself. The thought of what could be terrified him, and if he told the truth now, he had a feeling that things would change between them. 

Aziraphale wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready to face his deepest thoughts and desires. All his life, he had known what was expected of him. He had watched over his pair bond and done whatever was required of him to become the best soldier he could be. And when Claire died, he knew, eventually, he would have to choose someone new. Aziraphale had been given lenience, given their present circumstances, but three years was plenty of time, in the eyes of the avian culture, to grieve and move on. 

But that wasn’t what Aziraphale wanted. He didn’t want to choose a new mate, not one that made sense. Not one that his people would approve of. Aziraphale wasn’t even sure, if given his people’s blessing, he wanted to choose Crowley as a mate. But there was something here between them. Something that tugged at Aziraphale’s heart and made him want to know the man more. He was at a loss of what to do.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of him. Aziraphale waited until Crowley’s gaze returned to his face. Then, he sent the serpent a soft smile, just barely resisting the urge to reach out his hand and place it over Crowley’s. 

“It really is a beautiful song,” the avian began, making sure to choose his words wisely. Now wasn’t the time to go about declaring phrases of undying love or proclaim the serpent had haunted his dreams for the past three years. He simply wanted to try and find out what it was, exactly, that Crowley remembered about that night they had shared together. “Where did you learn it?”

Crowley’s eyes fell and Aziraphale felt a strange pang in his chest. Was Crowley embarrassed over what had happened? He’d never once mentioned the fact that he had almost died - not in all the conversations they’d had over the several months Aziraphale had been traveling here. Was it because he didn’t remember? Or that the memory made him feel weak? Had he lost someone else that night that he cared about, and felt guilt over the fact that he’d survived?

“Just...uh, something I picked up once,” he responded in a soft voice that was very much not like him. “In a dream, or maybe a memory of some kind.”

The serpent was refusing to look at him now, and Aziraphale found that he did not like the way this conversation was going at all. He didn’t want Crowley to withdraw from him. He was normally so open with how he felt - the fact that Crowley didn’t want to talk to him now must mean something. But what would cause him to pull back like this?

“A dream,” Aziraphale mused, latching onto the least dangerous of the two possibilities. Dreams were unpredictable. They were inexplicable sometimes and could be waved away without having to look too deeply. “How lovely.”

At his words of encouragement, Crowley only seemed to shrink in further on himself. His shoulders hunched and the serpent shifted his hands, moving them to place his lyre to the far side of him, out of sight. A gentle palm overlaying the back of his hand stopped him and Crowley looked up, brilliant amber eyes gazing over at Aziraphale’s face. It was only after a few more moments of silence that the avian realized that  _ he  _ had been the one to rest his hand on Crowley’s.

“Don’t stop playing on my account,” Aziraphale echoed his earlier statement, voice taking on a much breathier tone with the additional skin on skin contact. “I don’t know if I’ve ever heard a more beautiful rendition of an avian lullaby in all my life.”

Amber eyes widened, and Aziraphale felt a pulse of energy shooting up from his fingertips, all the way to his shoulder and back down to his heart. The useless organ leapt into his throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe as the serpent sitting beside him struggled to come to terms with the information Aziraphale had just revealed.

“A wot?”

Aziraphale laughed, unconsciously giving Crowley’s hand a squeeze. “It’s an avian lullaby, dear. A very old song that mothers sing to their children.”

Something shimmered in the depths of Crowley’s eyes and Aziraphale found himself being drawn closer.

“All avian mothers?”

The serpent’s voice trembled as he asked his question, and Aziraphale paused. He was unable to sense emotion like any of the serpiente might in this moment, but even a reserved avian could tell that those words meant more to Crowley than he was letting on.

Slowly, the avian nodded. “Most of them, anyway,” he amended. “I’ve yet to run into someone who hadn’t at least heard “Hawksong” once in their lifetime.”

“Does it have words?” Crowley asked suddenly, causing Aziraphale to pull back, placing his hand safely on his own lap. Surely the serpent could sense how quickly his heart was beating. He must know the effect he was having on Aziraphale, and yet he continued to gaze at the avian, patiently waiting for an answer, as if Aziraphale wasn’t about to spontaneously combust with the intensity of emotions roiling inside him. 

“Ah,” he began, wondering what in the world he was going to say. If he told Crowley what the song was about, would his friend ask him to sing a few lines? Would that be enough for him to figure out it had been Aziraphale in that dream of his? Once again, he could feel his arms beginning to tremble, and the avian desperately fought the urge to retreat into himself completely. “Yes. It does. It’s a song about war and peace and...love.”

His cheeks were burning, blue eyes unable to look anywhere else but at Crowley’s face. What was he doing? Why had he decided to sit down at all? They were too close. There was too much... _ emotion _ going on here. Aziraphale had to get out of here. He had to find a way, quickly, to remove himself from the situation without hurting his friend’s feelings. He needed to take a few steps back and get ahold of himself before - 

“Would you like me to sing it?” his traitorous voice asked instead, causing the avian’s stomach to lurch. What was this? What was happening to him? “A few lines, perhaps?”

The next moments that followed were the longest moments of his life. Aziraphale’s eyes were fixed on Crowley’s, and in them he saw reflected glimpses of his own uncertainty. His hope and his fears. It was all there, swirling around in those gorgeous pools, the color of a summer’s sunset.

“No, I don’t - I don’t need you to - I don’t want - “ he seemed to be struggling with what to say and Aziraphale felt the urge to reach out with his hand once more and assure Crowley that everything was alright. Whatever was going on, he could talk to Aziraphale about it. Of that much, the avian was sure.

“I don’t need an angel,” Crowley responded in the barest of whispers, his breath tickling the very tip of Aziraphale’s nose with its proximity. “I just want you.”

It didn’t make any sense, his answer, but Aziraphale quickly found that he didn’t care. Before his mind could catch up to the scene unfolding before him, Crowley leaned forward and closed the distance between them, placing his hand on the avian’s as he pressed their lips together in the softest of touches.

In that moment, time stood still. It was just Aziraphale and Crowley in all the world. The serpent’s hand resting gently on his, a pair of warm lips pressing into him in a way that sent jolts of thrilling energy through Aziraphale’s entire body. He could feel it from the tips of his fingers all the way up his arms, down the back of his neck to the floor. Inside his chest, Aziraphale’s naturally rapidly beating heart had thudded to a stop and it took all of his limited brain power to remember that he still needed to breathe.

Aziraphale had never kissed anyone before. It was indecent for an avian man to show physical affection for his pair bond before they were wed. He was to treat her with decency and respect and even once they were married, physical contact was few and far between. Until that moment, he hadn’t known what he had been missing. The warmth of Crowley’s lips upon his, the sharp smell of spices that seemed to follow the serpent wherever he went. It was practically  _ heavenly _ .

This was unlike anything the avian had ever felt before. He felt  _ alive _ in a way that he hadn’t been up until this moment. He wanted to thread his fingers through Crowley’s hair. Wanted to pull him close in an embrace and never let him go. Aziraphale wanted Crowley by his side, always. He wanted to spend the rest of his life learning everything there was to know about this beautiful, warm, wonderful creature.

Crowley moved to deepen the kiss and it was like the bright light of a candle was abruptly snuffed out. Immediately, Aziraphale felt his heart seize in his chest and panic take hold. What was he thinking? What if someone saw them? He didn’t want this. Crowley was a serpent. Crowley was a man. Crowley was quite possibly the only person left in the world beside Danica that Aziraphale cared about. And he knew from experience where affections like those lead. If he chose to give himself over to this. If he chose to abandon all reservations and actually allow himself to love Crowley, Aziraphale would surely lose him.

He pulled back, breaking the contact, acutely aware of how Crowley’s skin seemed to burn against him where their hands still touched. Tears pricked at Aziraphale’s eyes as he tried to keep his trembling heart from falling to pieces. 

“No.”

Crowley stiffened, pulling back as if stung. His amber eyes glistened in the dimly lit room, filling with tears as his breath hitched in his throat. Aziraphale watched as the other man drew the hand that had reached out and touched the avian back toward himself, clutching it tightly against his chest like it had been burned.

“But, I thought…” Crowley’s words echoed around them, a pained breath of air that stabbed at Aziraphale’s heart. He watched as the serpent’s lip quivered, trying to hold back a flood of emotions he was not accustomed to controlling, all for Aziraphale’s sake.

“I’m sorry.” The avian could feel tears of his own about to fall. He couldn’t stay here anymore, not when his heart was shattering inside his chest. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to fix this? The sight of Crowley before him, completely heartbroken by his rejection, was tearing Aziraphale apart. But he couldn’t do this. It was too much for his heart to take.

“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

Without waiting for a response, Aziraphale stood up. He tore his gaze away from the wounded serpent and made a beeline for the nearest hallway. Gritting his teeth, Aziraphale sought refuge from the storm raging inside of him the only way he knew how. He pushed down all his feelings. All the hurt and pain and guilt. The avian shoved it down as far as he possibly could, putting on the mask of avian reserve he knew all too well.

The relief he felt was instantaneous. No longer did he feel like he was crumbling to pieces. No longer did he fear that Crowley might see the secret that he was hiding. Aziraphale breathed in a deep breath and, to his surprise, heard a commotion coming from down the hall, growing closer with each second.

A group of serpiente guards, led by a familiar blonde-haired woman, were approaching at an almost breakneck speed. Upon spotting him, Adelina waved the others forward, barking directions to split up and check down the side hallways. Aziraphale watched, waited patiently until she turned her brilliant emerald gaze on him, just barely avoiding the instinct to freeze in place. His growing friendship with Crowley had certainly eased Aziraphale’s fears when confronting any of the serpiente, but there was still something about their intense jewel-toned gazes that ensnared him, making it difficult to recall how to do much of anything.

“Did you see anyone come down this way?” Adelina asked sharply, her eyes blazing with an alarming fury. 

Aziraphale shook his head, a feeling of panic rising in his chest. These were not just a group of serpiente roaming about the palace. These were guards on a mission. They were strategically looking for something - for someone. What had happened.

“Where are Danica and Zane?” he demanded, finally remembering that it was Adelina who normally stayed by Zane’s side during the days she was on duty. Seeing her here, now, with neither royal in sight did not bode well.

The viper’s lips remained shut in a tight line, but she did nod her head down the hall she’d come from. Aziraphale dipped his head in thanks, shuffling to the side as she brushed past, forcing himself to remain calm. Something had happened. Something that Adelina did not want to say out loud. Something that had Adelina shaken to her very core.

Without a single word, Aziraphale was off. Tearing down the hall towards his Tuuli Thea, all thoughts and feelings for a particular amber-eyed serpent completely forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was the very first scene of this fic that got stuck in my head. I have been waiting to share this version of "You go too fast for me, Crowley" for months, and I am so happy with how it turned out. For those of you who have read the book, we're back on track with the plot and things should be moving along from now on until the end of the story. Thank you so much for reading and for your encouragement along the way <3 I appreciate it so very much!


	15. Chapter 15

Crowley had not seen hide nor hair of Aziraphale all week and it was entirely his fault. He should have known to keep his feelings to himself. What a  _ stupid  _ thing to do. Not only had the serpent admitted these feelings that had been growing stronger and stronger inside of him, but he had actually kissed Aziraphale. He had  _ kissed _ the avian - someone who he probably considered his closest friend outside Adelina and Ailbhe. Why would he  _ do _ that? How could he be so stupid?

He had no idea what had possessed him to do something so reckless. Yes, Crowley had feelings for Aziraphale, and yes, up until last week, he had the thought that the avian man might feel the same way, but that didn’t give him free reign to do whatever he pleased. He should have waited, should have asked first if something so intimate was welcome. Crowley had just...gotten so caught up in the moment. The way the evening sun had spilled over Aziraphale’s form, illuminating his golden curls like a goddamn halo. The way his deep blue eyes had shimmered in the light had taken his breath away.

And the moment Aziraphale had mentioned that he knew the song - that he recognized the tune that had plagued Crowley’s thoughts for the past three years - well, Crowley had nearly been undone. He’d wanted to fold himself into Aziraphale’s tight embrace and never let him go. Somehow, the serpent had managed to hold himself back, but then Aziraphale had offered to sing for him and Crowley had panicked. 

That moment stood out so sharply in his mind. Crowley could still feel the way his heart had hammered against his chest. The way his stomach roiled and his hands had begun to shake. He remembered how a million thoughts flashed through his mind and he was unable to hone in on any of them. Hope flared in his chest at the thought that Aziraphale might actually be his angel, quickly followed by overwhelming fear that he wasn’t. 

In that moment, Crowley knew that he didn’t care. He didn’t want an angel, not if it wasn’t Aziraphale. The love he felt for this man was more than he ever thought possible. He wanted to shout it from the mountaintops but found the words stuck in his throat behind the place where his heart had lodged itself.

So, he did the next best thing. He gathered his courage, leaned in, and kissed Aziraphale. And for a brief flicker of eternity, everything was absolutely perfect. Aziraphale didn’t pull away, disgusted. Didn’t cry out in alarm. He’d sighed and then he’d leaned in to Crowley, just the tiniest bit. Crowley remembered how the joy and the hope and  _ love _ had exploded out of Aziraphale’s chest, crashing into him like the wave of an ocean and it had been  _ everything _ he never knew he wanted. It had been a symphony more beautiful than any lullaby he’d ever heard.

Could he really be blamed for losing himself in a feeling like that? After years of fighting and searching and hoping and fearing that he might die alone, was it really so wrong to forget about everything else, if only for a moment? It had only lasted a few seconds, but they had been the happiest few seconds of Crowley’s life.

And he’d gone and ruined them.

_ You go too fast for me, Crowley. _

He’d pushed too far, crossed some boundary he didn’t know existed and now Aziraphale wouldn’t even talk to him. He’d pushed the person he’d cared about most in the world away and had no idea what he could do to fix it.

_ You go too fast for me, Crowley. _

What did that even mean? Was Aziraphale saying that there was somewhere to go, but that he wasn’t ready? Did a part of him  _ want _ to be with Crowley, but he was still sorting through how he felt? Or did he already know and was trying to let the serpent down easy?

This was torture - the not knowing. Crowley could handle rejection. He could handle a “I’d rather us just be friends” if that was what it came down to. What he couldn’t endure was the silence. Not knowing where they stood. Was Aziraphale mad at him? Did he want to cut all ties with Crowley or was he still sorting through his feelings? Had Crowley’s actions sparked something inside him, or had the serpent lost his best friend for good?

To make matters worse, Crowley wasn’t allowed to go try and talk to Aziraphale. Moments after their kiss, right after Aziraphale had pulled away, they’d gotten word that there was an assassin in the palace. Someone had made an attempt on Zane’s life with a poisoned blade and Danica - brave, selfless Danica - had stood in the way. She had undoubtedly saved the man’s life, but had paid the price for it. 

Crowley grimaced at the thought, pulling his knees up to his chest as he sat alone on the forum steps. The grey light of morning was just starting to filter in overhead, but the serpent barely seemed to notice. He’d been up most of the night, tossing and turning in the warmth of his nest before giving up on sleep completely and going for a walk to clear his mind.

It hadn’t worked. Thoughts swirled around in his head like a thick fog, obscuring everything else around him. Crowley was transported back to darkness and pain. To fire burning through his veins as he tried to remember how to breathe. He remembered what Avian poison felt like and he wouldn’t wish such agony on even his greatest enemy. The thought that Danica might be suffering even a fraction of what he’d experienced made Crowley sick to his stomach.

It was a vicious cycle he’d found himself trapped in. Memories of his own trauma. Thoughts of his Naga and what she had been forced to endure. Fears about how Aziraphale was faring with his Tuuli Thea’s life on the line and where their friendship stood. Going over and over the night in the synkal. His song, their talk. Their kiss. The sweet euphoria of Aziraphale’s feelings washing over him followed by the sharp sting of rejection. News of the assassination attempt. Rinse and repeat.

A week had gone by and the serpent had been unable to break himself out of those thoughts. Every moment he was alone, he found himself returning to them. He was a giant mangled ball of worry and fear and remorse. If only he could get to Aziraphale and just  _ talk _ to him. But the soldier refused to leave his Queen’s side, and no one except for Zane and the other guards were allowed into that part of the palace.

“Crowley?”

The sound caught him by surprise. Over the past hour he’d been sitting here, not one soul had passed through the area. They were all still fast asleep in their homes, he assumed, and yet, out of all the people he could have expected to meet here this morning, his Diente was the last person Crowley had expected.

“Zane,” he echoed in astonishment as the garnet-eyed man took a seat beside him on the steps. Even in the dim light of morning, his king’s eyes shone with a brightness unmatched by anyone else Crowley knew. The man smiled, reaching up a hand to brush the strands of ebony hair back away from his face as he settled in on the cold stone surface, elbows perched on his knees, both arms dangling out in front of him.

“How is she doing?” Crowley found himself asking when Zane did not speak up. There was a hardness to his features the serpent recognized, sending his heart into a panicked flutter. They’d been at a tentative peace now for only a few months, and it simultaneously felt like both an eternity and only a single heartbeat had gone by. In that time, he had seen evidence of Zane starting to soften. He was more open with his people. Smiling more. Interacting with them. Crowley wouldn’t say the man was entirely happy. But he’d been hopeful.

Now, it seemed as though that hope had been drained from him. Zane looked tired, and disappointed. There was no despair on his face, and that alone gave Crowley reason to rejoice. If Danica was still alive, then there was still reason to hope after all.

“She’s much better now,” he replied, eyes drifting off into the distance, hands latching onto each other tightly. “Almost strong enough to travel back to the Hawk’s Keep.”

Crowley paused, the question that he wanted to ask hovering at the tip of his tongue. A week ago, before all this, he might have had the courage to ask for what his heart truly wanted. Now, with Danica’s situation and the fact that Aziraphale was no longer speaking to him - he felt nauseous just thinking about it.

Perceptive as always, Zane caught onto Crowley’s inner turmoil immediately. Slowly, he reached out and overlaid his hand on the serpent’s shoulder, clasping tightly in a comforting way. “She’ll be fine,” he assured the other serpent, though his words did nothing to ease Crowley’s thoughts. That was the trouble with being serpiente. They may be able to sense certain emotions, but deciphering the reasons behind them was another art entirely. “And so will I. The would-be assassin was caught. I’m sure you - and the rest of the kingdom, if I’m being honest - knows by now. The danger has passed.”

A frown made its way onto Crowley’s face. He had heard that tidbit of information. The guards had cornered the girl down the hall from where the attack happened. Her name hadn’t been announced. All Crowley knew was that she was a viper, and that she had taken her own life once she’d realized she had been caught.

“Time to move on with our lives, I suppose. We leave for the Hawk’s Keep tomorrow.”

His heart leapt in his throat. They were leaving for the Hawk’s Keep tomorrow? For how long? That hardly gave Crowley any time at all to try and fix all that had gone wrong with Aziraphale. His heart ached at the thought of the avian leaving without at least getting a chance to apologize for overstepping boundaries.For pushing things too far. For assuming and daring to hope that his feelings might be reciprocated.

_ You go too fast for me, Crowley. _

Gods, why did it hurt so much? The serpent blinked back tears, for the first time in his life wishing he had the ability to push it all away like the avian’s did. Aziraphale had made it look so easy. The way he had completely shut down, forcing away the shock and sorrow and all those other emotions he’d felt that night like they were nothing.

_ If he had sorrow to force away, that must mean he cares for you. _

Crowley scowled. It didn’t matter that Aziraphale cared for him if he wouldn’t acknowledge it. What good did that do either of them? All it did was reinforce the fact that Aziraphale was ashamed of whatever he did feel for Crowley. That such feelings were inconvenient, unwelcome,  _ wrong.  _

“Irene mentioned you might have something you wanted to ask me,” Zane murmured softly, interrupting Crowley’s storm cloud of thoughts. The man sat up a little straighter, stretching out his legs onto the lower steps as his mind returned to that afternoon in the forest, in the garden that had become their family’s secret haven. 

_ Ask to go with him next time. Zane will be pleased to see someone taking initiative. I am sure he will allow it, so long as Danica has no objections. _

The way he had inserted such a comment into the conversation made Crowley think that Irene had already told her brother, at least a bit what was going on. Still, Zane did not press the issue. He sat there, patiently waiting for Crowley to speak.

Eventually, the gold-eyed serpent released the breath he’d been holding in a great rush. He felt his body sag inward, hunching over as if making himself smaller might prevent his emotions from overcoming him. 

“I don’t know that my original idea is such a good one anymore.” Crowley admitted softly, wishing that his heart would stop aching for a moment.

A soft smile appeared on Zane’s face as he looked over at Crowley. The serpent felt a tiny flicker of fondness light up the air between them and he looked up, surprised.

“You should come with us,” Zane asserted, a twinkle in his bright garnet eyes. “I daresay bringing a whole entourage of serpents wouldn’t be well received, but out of anyone who could accompany us, you are one of the ones who would likely cause the least amount of anxiety to Danica’s people.”

Despite his terrible mood, Crowley laughed at the suggestion. “You want me to come with you to the Hawk’s Keep because of how little a threat I am?”

Zane grinned, the action reaching upward from his mouth into his eyes. Crowley could feel the lighthearted joy wafting off the other man, so strong it was practically intoxicating. “Precisely!” Zane reached forward and clapped Crowley on the shoulders, moving to stand. Then, in an unexpected turn of events, he slowly spun around and extended his hand to the serpent still seated on the palace steps.

“You never know,” his Diente teased, a glimmer of knowing in his eyes. “The Hawk’s Keep may surprise you.”

Crowley simply shook his head in an exasperated way, but reached up anyway, allowing Zane to lift him to his feet. The man made it look effortless, muscles in his arms shifting underneath his tunic in a way that reminded Crowley of the days he spent teaching Aziraphale to dance. His heart fluttered in his chest as the reality of his situation began to sink in. He was going to the Hawk’s Keep. He wasn’t going to have to say goodbye to Aziraphale - not yet. Which meant maybe he still had time. Maybe he could think of something to say or do that would at least get the avian talking to him again. He could deal with everything else, as painful as it was, Crowley was sure of it.

As long as he had his friend back, he would be alright.

* * *

Aziraphale felt horrible - perpetually sick to his stomach, heart racing in his chest, feeling like it would explode at any second, just waiting for his world to be torn apart once more. He was walking on thin ice, a single step away from falling through and losing himself to the abyss.

Danica had almost died. She could have died, had her attacker decided taking her life was more important than getting away. Somehow, amidst all the palace guards and the constant protection surrounding both Danica and Zane, someone had managed to catch Zane alone. The attack had been meant for him, and had that blade bit into his arm like it had Danica’s, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the serpiente king would have drawn his last breath that night.

The blade had been poisoned. It had put Danica into a weakened state for nearly a week, which meant the assassin hadn’t just been trying to scare them. He had wanted Zane dead. Aziraphale supposed he should feel relieved that it was the serpiente king who had been the target, and not Danica, but the only emotion he could summon when thinking about the incident was grief and despair. 

Zane and Danica had brought their people together. They had done what all who came before them had been unwilling to do, and it still wasn’t enough. The war  _ still  _ wasn’t over. Aziraphale was  _ still _ just moments away from losing the one thing left in this world that he cared about. If Danica had succumbed to her injuries, he didn’t know what he would have done. Even though he wasn’t on duty, Aziraphale should have been by her side. Had he learned nothing from what happened to Xavier? He should have  _ been there  _ and maybe none of this would have happened. But he wasn’t. He was off, enjoying himself. Getting distracted by things that didn’t matter and feelings he had no right to possess. It was time to put all of that behind him. Time to stop thinking about the way his heart soared whenever Crowley entered a room, or how free he felt every time they danced. It was time to stop thinking about these feelings that had crept up on him unannounced, threatening to pull him under. 

That, of course, was much easier said than done when the very center of his distractions wasn’t riding along beside him on their way to the Hawk’s Keep. Granted, Crowley wasn’t actually up at the front of the party with Aziraphale. He was lingering behind, keeping close to Zane and Danica while the others of the Royal Flight fanned out on every side. They were sparing no expense and had even flown over an extra detachment of guards to help with the escort. 

Aziraphale tried not to think about the serpiente dancer as they continued their way on horseback towards the Hawk’s Keep. He tried not to listen in on the conversation, but finding something else to focus on was difficult. Every time Crowley’s voice drifted over to his ears, Aziraphale was transported back to that night. Sitting side by side in the synkal, listening to the serpent’s music. The feeling of Crowley’s lips on his. No matter what he tried, Aziraphale couldn’t shake it. He kept telling himself over and over and over again that Danica was more important. That his Tuuli Thea was the only thing that mattered, but nothing he did seemed to dull the ache in his heart.

At twenty-one years of age, Aziraphale had seen a lot of pain and heartache in his relatively short lifespan. He’d watched parents succumb to illness, a brother get mowed down on the battlefield. He’d watched his Pair Bond, Claire, as she was ripped from his grasp and was helpless to do anything to save his beloved prince. Apart from Danica, everyone in his life that he had loved was gone. He hadn’t been strong enough to save them. If he allowed himself to love Crowley now, Aziraphale would certainly lose him.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lose Crowley. It may be traitorous to have such feelings, but Aziraphale knew that if somehow, Crowley’s bright, brilliant light were to go out, he would never recover. Aziraphale couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lose Crowley, and therefore, the only solution that made sense was for him to not have the serpent at all. He couldn’t lose Crowley. He couldn’t.

He wasn’t strong enough.

“You could try exploring the Market,” Danica was suggesting when the words drifted up toward Aziraphale once more. Quietly, he clicked his tongue and urged his horse forward, blue eyes scanning the trees on his left, looking for anything vaguely human shaped. “It’s a lot like the serpiente forum. Lot’s of merchants out and about selling their wares. And there’s some delicious food you could try. Mixed berry pies, and quinoa with summer squash are some of my favorites.”

“Do you have any recommendations for something with a bit more substance to it?” Crowley asked, his voice soft and a bit heavy. “I probably should have eaten more before we left. Could really go for some lamb or pork right about now.”

Even though Aziraphale’s face was turned away, he knew without looking that Danica was shaking her head. “No,” his Tuuli Thea apologized, and she sounded sincerely sorry. “We don’t prepare or serve meat at the Hawk’s Keep.”

A pause. Aziraphale’s heart ached in his chest as he thought about what Crowley’s reaction would be. Amber eyes blown comically wide, his mouth drawing downward into an ‘o’ shape, displaying his shock. “You wot?”

Aziraphale attempted to bite back a laugh - or perhaps it was a sob - he had no way to know. Luckily, Danica’s amused laughter filled the air around them, covering any strangled sound he might have made. “I’m sorry,” she responded, laugh still echoing in her voice. “My great-grandmother couldn’t stand the smell of cooked meat, so we haven’t had any in the Keep since she took the throne.”

“That’s insane!” Crowley cried in mock indignation and a sad smile tugged at Aziraphale’s lips. He was glad his friend seemed to be doing alright, given how things had ended up between them. If Crowley was laughing now, then certainly things would be alright. Aziraphale was no serpent. He couldn’t sense his friend’s emotions to be sure, but Crowley  _ sounded _ happy. That had to be enough.

“You’re a hawk,” the serpent continued, as if that fact weren’t the most obvious thing in the world. “Hawks eat meat all the time. Surely you must be joking.”

A chuckle sounded once more, but this time, it wasn’t from Danica, but from Zane. “She’s not, I assure you. You can scour the entirety of the Keep and you won’t find a single scrap of meat.”

Crowley gasped and Aziraphale blinked back tears. He wanted more than anything to fall back and ride beside them. To be a part of the conversation, to see Crowley’s brilliant amber eyes as they sparkled in the sunlight. To share a knowing smile between friends, or perhaps more? He desperately wanted Crowley as a part of his life, but knew that if he pulled back on the reins and joined them, he might miss something crucial. If something happened to Zane or Danica or Crowley because he had been caught up in a  _ moment _ , Aziraphale would never forgive himself.

“I’ve been swindled,” Crowley teased and Aziraphale forced himself to keep his eyes ahead. He knew if he turned around now, all would be lost. “Hoodwinked. I cannot believe you tricked me into coming all the way over here to spend two weeks eating rabbit food!”

Both Zane and Danica laughed at this. Blue eyes scanned the front of their party, catching a few amused glances from one member of the Royal Flight to another. Only Carl, Andreios, and Erika remained stoic, eyes fixed ahead as they continued to ride. It wouldn’t be long now before they reached the Keep. In the distance, Aziraphale thought he could see the very top of the highest tower. They would be there within a quarter hour.

“I promise you won’t starve,” Zane assured him. “I’ve been here a dozen times and always managed to survive. You may even find something here that you like.”

He didn’t know whether he was going crazy or had somehow developed a sixth sense, but in that moment, Aziraphale swore he could feel the burn of Crowley’s gaze against the back of his neck. The desire to turn around and look him in the eye was practically overwhelming, and it took all of Aziraphale’s strength to push those feelings away, deep within himself. He pulled his reserve into place and kept his eyes trained on the treetops, waiting for the moment when they would part to reveal the place he called home.

“Maybe I will.”

And then it was there, standing tall and proud and strong. A pillar of stone there to welcome them all home. Although the party kept moving forward, there was a collective pause among them as all conversation stopped and all eyes turned toward the great city. Aziraphale felt a rush of warmth enter his body, and despite his better judgement - despite all signs warning against it - he turned to take in Crowley’s face upon seeing the Keep for the first time. His eyes fell down from the treetops to the place his voice had been sounding. Blue eyes met amber and the whole world seemed to stand still.

While everyone else in their group was looking up at the Hawk’s Keep, Crowley only had eyes for Aziraphale. Wide, round eyes so full of longing and hurt and  _ hope _ . They were a window directly into his soul and Aziraphale found once again that he could not look away. He wanted nothing more than to take Crowley by the hand and lead him into the city. To show him all the places he’d grown up visiting. To share his life with the serpent dancer and have him come to love this place as home too.

_ Stop it. You can’t keep doing this. If you do this, you will lose him. He will get hurt or killed and it will be all your fault. _

Still, Aziraphale couldn’t help but give a small, sad smile before tearing his gaze away and pushing his sorrow aside. He tried not to think about Crowley’s gaze on him. The way it burned into the back of his neck or made his heart ache. He was doing this  _ for _ Crowley. And for himself. To keep them both safe from further heartache. Just because one assassin had been caught didn’t mean there weren’t more of them out there. The two kingdoms were still very much uneasy with the peace that had been forced upon them. The war was not over. Not by a long shot.

It wouldn’t do well to forget that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone! So sorry for the delay on this chapter. Work has been crazy busy these past few weeks, and I've lost a lot of my writing time. I've just been so tired whenever I get home.
> 
> We're coming down to the wire now. Only a few more chapters to go. I may extend the fic a little bit, but we are definitely approaching the end. Thank you all so much for your continued support! I hope to be back to this story soon!


	16. Chapter 16

Thank Anhamarik for Adelina and Ailbhe. Crowley had been nervous to admit it at first, but he felt completely out of place here at the Hawk’s Keep. When he’d decided to make the journey with Zane and Danica, the serpent had expected an unenthusiastic reception. The avians would be happy to see Danica, especially after her prolonged stay in serpiente lands. At best, he assumed they would be indifferent to him and Zane, but the moment their party had ridden into the city, Crowley had been met with blank stares and statue-like faces.

It hadn’t been an angry welcome, or one of distrust. It had been _empty._ Like stepping from underneath the warm summer’s sun into a cold, dark void. At first, Crowley thought that something was wrong with him. Surely, his hands shouldn’t be trembling this much. And why were his palms so sweaty?

Crowley felt as if he had stepped into nothingness. Everywhere he looked were people moving about with flesh shaped masks on their faces, hiding every ounce of emotion from him. He could feel the darkness pressing in around him, even though he could sense the warmth of the sun upon his exposed arms and shoulders. It was all too much, too soon, and the _one_ person he hoped he could go to for a moment of relief was nowhere to be found. The moment they reached the stables, Aziraphale had put up his horse and vanished into the city.

After a day had gone by and Zane had a quick word with both Danica and Lady Nacola, the previous avian queen had conceded to allow two more of Zane’s guard accompany him while at the Hawk’s keep. It only made sense, as the previous assassination attempt had been aimed at Zane. Crowley wondered if Lady Nacola felt bad one of her subjects had been the first to cause major trouble between the two kingdoms.

Whatever the reason, she relented and the two most trustworthy members of Zane’s guard were sent for. Crowley lingered around the Keep’s entrance all evening, waiting for their arrival. He skipped dinner, unable to find anything enticing enough on the menu to try and force himself to eat through the unease that churned through his entire being. Once Adelina and Ailbhe got here, everything would be alright. He would have someone at his side who understood him - who knew him. Once they got here, he wouldn’t feel so absolutely alone.

It was well past dusk when their horses arrived. No sooner had a young avian stable boy taken hold of the reins than Adelina was already on her feet and marching her way to the nearest guard, demanding to be taken to Zane’s chambers immediately.

“You two can come with me,” a young raven announced as Crowley slinked closer to the pair. Ailbhe caught his eye and offered a quiet smile, nodding his head in the direction Adelina was already marching off. Relief flooded the red-haired serpent and he hurried to catch up, already dreading the multi flight trek ahead of them, but thankful he no longer had to spend his hours at the Keep alone.

True, Zane was here, but he’d been distant since they’d arrived. Barely said anything during meals. Distracted when he and Danica had been seen together in the market. Part of Crowley wondered if he was more shaken by the attempt on his life than he’d originally let on. If Danica hadn’t leapt in the way, his Diente surely wouldn't’ have survived the encounter. Of course, seeing his mate suffer through such pain, even when assured by doctors from both kingdoms that she would pull through, could not have been easy on either one of them.

Yes, the assassin had been caught and she had been punished for her treason, but if one person had been bold enough to act on their anger, what was preventing the rest of them? This peace was held together by the thin strands of faith alone. And faith by itself could only bear so much.

“How much further ?” Adelina complained as they reached the fourth floor and continued up the wide, spiraling stairs. “Are you keeping him on the very top floor?

“You’re to report to Andreios first,” the soldier, Karl, replied, huffing a bit at her rudeness, but keeping his response civil. “He asked to see you as soon as you arrived.”

Finally, they reached the next floor and spilled out into the hallway, Karl leading the way with Adelina right behind. Ailbhe and Crowley hung back, wanting to stay as far away from the fiery blonde woman and her ultimate destination. Crowley could imagine that she, too, was shaken from the events that had transpired the previous week and was anxious to get to her Diente’s side. 

“His room is just here on the right,” Karl explained as they approached a single wooden door with the royal insignia etched in iron on a plate upon the front. “It is rather late, so there is a chance that - “

Adelina pushed the door open, not even stopping to listen to what the avian beside her was trying to say. In her mind, she was here for one thing, and one thing only - to protect Zane. And no amount of wood or stone or Avian protocol was going to stand in her way.

Standing behind the two guards, Crowley didn’t have the best viewpoint for what lay inside the room, but the instantaneous flashes of shock and fury he felt from both Karl and Adelina were enough to tell him just what they might have stumbled in on. There, standing in the center of the doorway were Danica and Andreios, leaping out of what appeared to be an intimate embrace.

Crowley had not seen the beginning of the scene. He did not know what the pair had been doing before Adelina had interrupted them, but the serpent was no idiot. There was no need for the wave of embarrassment that emanated from Danica a split second later. Crowley knew exactly what they had just walked in on.

“She - I -” Karl stuttered, in an attempt to gain control of the situation and explain away this blatant intrusion on his Queen’s privacy. Then, regaining his composure and turning to his commanding officer, the avian continued.

“Sir, Adelina and Ailbhe are here,” he cleared his throat, then pressed on without a second thought for the viper seething beside him, “You wished to have them report to you immediately?”

Crowley took a half step back, allowing Ailbhe to slide in closer to hear Andreios’ response. This was, after all, a meeting that was meant for the three of them. He’d just found himself tagging along with nothing better to do. Now, part of him wished he had minded his own business and stayed in the marketplace, surrounded by all those blank faces. Feeling nothing would be better than this overwhelming rage coming from his wounded friend.

“I didn’t realize I’d be disturbing you,” Adelina seethed through clenched teeth. From the corner of his eye, Crowley saw Ailbhe turn to shoot him a look. Tight lipped, soft frown. Brow furrowed above his barely visible eyebrows. It was a look that said perhaps they both should have stayed on the ground floor. “Should I come back later?”

To his credit, Andreios faced the angry viper without flinching. Years of training allowed him to stare back at them, empty like a deep, mountainous cavern. Cold and dark and unfeeling. The sight of it sent a shiver down Crowley’s spine. “You didn’t interrupt anything,” the Captain of the Royal Flight responded, his black eyes slowly drifting across all four of them huddled around the doorway. “Karl, please escort Shardae back to her rooms. Adelina, Ailbhe, I can take you to your room if you’d like to rest a bit, or you can have the full tour of the keep now.”

Beside him, Ailbhe opened his mouth to speak, but his sister beat him to it. “I would prefer to know the layout of this place before I sleep,” she all but hissed in their direction, the heat of her rage making Crowley feel like he was going to be sick. He could understand Adelina’s pain. Here she was watching her former lover’s mate stealing moments with another man when she was forbidden to do the same. Crowley’s heart sunk at the thought of having to watch the person he cared about most in the world be with someone else. Whether it was for show or not, Danica was Zane’s mate, and he would never do anything to disrespect her in any way. 

Apparently Danica did not share that same sentiment. 

“There seems to be no telling what goes on around here.”

Crowley stepped aside as the avians entered the hallway, hanging awkwardly against the wall as Andreios passed through the doorway and proceeded down the hall, Adelina hot on his tail. For a split second, Ailbhe turned to shoot Crowley a sympathetic glance and then he, too, was gone, leaving the red-haired serpent alone with his Naga and a member of her Royal Flight.

Karl shot him a disapproving glance as he patiently waited for Danica to emerge from the room. The man was young - around the same age as their queen - and yet he held the presence of a battle-hardened warrior. Crowley felt a shiver run down his spine, knowing that if they had ever met in different circumstances, the raven would have ended his life in the blink of an eye.

“Right,” Crowley mumbled, feeling his heartbeat quickening in embarrassment. His mind flashed back to that day in the synkal when he’d first laid his eyes on Danica. She was just as much a stranger to him then as she was now, but there was something in her bright golden eyes this time. A glimmer of emotion that caused him to pause in his retreat, even as the words continued to tumble from his lips. “I’ll just be on my way then.”

“Wait.”

The serpent’s footsteps stopped just as soon as they started, and he turned to look at his Naga once more. Her eyes, so similar to his own, displayed all the uneasiness of the moment that had just passed. For the first time since he’d met her, Danica was not hiding from him. He could feel the worry gnawing at the edge of her mind as she no doubt wondered what Adelina might do after what she had just witnessed.

“Walk with me?” the young woman asked, lifting a hand to tuck a loose strand of golden hair behind her ears. “Unless you have somewhere else to be?”

Crowley shook his head. Then, realizing that didn’t exactly give her the best understanding of his intentions, he elaborated. “Nowhere important.”

She smiled, a bit hesitant, but still genuine as Crowley fell into step beside her. He would have made sure to keep a respectable distance between them, even if Karl hadn’t shot daggers in his direction as the pair passed. Like the serpiente guard back at the palace, the avian soldier left enough distance between them to allow for a private conversation if that was what they wished, although Crowley could tell by the heat of his body and the quick thrum of the other man’s heartbeat that whatever conversation they might have would be a bit less than private, unless they chose to whisper.

“Oh,” Danica murmured as they reached a balcony at the end of the hall. Crowley felt a wave of embarrassment roll off her as she turned to face him, a shy smile upon her rosy lips. “I’m so sorry, I forgot myself for a moment.” She gestured behind them where the serpent could still see Karl watching them, right hand resting just above the hilt of his sword, like he was waiting for an excuse to use it. “The staircase is back down this way.”

_I’m just not accustomed to this mode of travel, is all. I have wings for a reason. Seems a shame to let them go to waste, wouldn’t you say?_

The conversation felt like a lifetime ago - that first day Crowley showed Aziraphale around sha’Mehay. His heart beat a little harder inside his chest, feeling like the tip of a knife was being held to it, slowly burying itself in.

“Unless you wanted me to carry you up?” His queen seemed utterly embarrassed to even be asking the question. “It would be easier, but Zane has made it clear to me that you and your people tend to prefer living with both feet on the ground.”

Crowley felt his stomach roil at the thought. Not that he had anything against heights, but to do what she asked of him would require giving himself over. He would be completely at Danica’s mercy, and though he trusted his Naga’s intentions, it was another thing entirely to trust her strength and ability to lift him off the ground and fly him several stories up.

“Are you sure you can lift me?” he found himself asking, looking down at his thin frame. It would be no surprise to find that Aziraphale or Andreios or one of the other male guards could perform such a feat, but Danica was built like him. Thin. Graceful. “I’m a bit denser than I look.”

She laughed. It was a light, airy sound that brought a glimmer of warmth into the serpent’s chest, despite the uneasiness he felt in this moment. He realized that after six months of living in this strange and delicate peace, he’d never actually taken the time to talk to Danica on a personal level. Not that he was required to, by any means. Despite how Charis and Irene and even Zane might feel, Crowley was _not_ a part of the royal family. He was one of Danica’s subjects and nothing more. He had no right to know her any better than a subject knew his or her Naga.

Still, it was nice, hearing her laugh.

“I would assume you’d shift into your other form,” she explained and Crowley’s heart lodged itself in his throat. “Unless you are some sort of very large python, I’d imagine I’d be able to carry you in my demi form.”

Two things about that suggestion made Crowley unable to speak for a moment. The first being that saying those words meant Danica trusted him. Implicitly. She didn’t know what form he took, which meant she didn’t know whether he was venomous. It was one thing to walk around with him in their human forms with a guard within striking distance, and another to have Crowley’s serpent form coiled around her arms as she flew him up several stories. If he had less than good intentions, there would be nothing anyone could do to stop him from taking them both down.

The second thing, however, was much more unique to his personal situation. At the mention of his serpent form, Crowley could feel his palms beginning to sweat. His mouth went dry and his mind flashed back to that terrible night three years ago. The fire coursing through his veins, the pain he endured for weeks on end as the doctors tried everything in their power to heal him.

In time, the poison had run its course and he’d finally begun to recover, but it had not been a complete process. And by the looks of it, he feared it never would be.

“I can’t,” Crowley found himself explaining, barely a whisper in the space between them. He felt a cloud of confusion swirl around Danica’s form, but the serpentine dancer was too distracted to really focus on why she might be feeling that way. “I’m sorry, I just - “

He broke off, not sure how to begin explaining the thoughts circling around in his mind. Slowly, Crowley looked up at Danica, his amber eyes searching for something he did not understand. She smiled softly at him, meeting his gaze with no fear reflected in her golden eyes. If anything, they looked almost apologetic.

“I should be the one apologizing,” Danica responded and Crowley felt a wave of guilt threaten to overtake him. It wasn’t her fault. If he had been anyone else, Crowley would have gone with her in a heartbeat. But he couldn’t. “It is clear to me I have overstepped and made you uncomfortable, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

She was pushing away her confusion. Crowley could feel it in the distance in her voice, the way he felt like he was falling away from her. It wasn’t a complete use of her avian reserve, but it was close enough to make Crowley feel sick to his stomach. He didn’t understand if it was their location or her unfamiliarity with him that made her feel like she had to hide herself from him, but whatever the reason, the serpent wished with all his heart it would stop.

“Is there somewhere private we could go?” he asked, struggling to draw in a deep enough breath. He felt so open here, so exposed. Back home, the cool night’s wind against his face seemed to help calm him during episodes like this, but here at the Hawk’s Keep, it felt different. The sky was too bright, he was up too high. The scent of the air and the sounds of the people down below were strange and unfamiliar. It was all too much.

Danica glanced around. “There is a library, on the third floor. It’s a short walk from here, and I have my own private study.”

All he could do in that moment was nod his head and follow her down the hall toward the staircase. His legs felt wobbly beneath him, and for a while, Crowley feared they might give out underneath him, but he reached the library in one piece.

“My Lady,” Karl began to protest as Danica opened the study door to usher Crowley inside, “I would much prefer if you didn’t - “

A flash of frustration echoed around them as his Naga turned on her guard. “Need I remind you, Karl, that this man has the utmost trust of several of your superiors.” Her voice was harsher than it had been with him, and Crowley wondered if she was truly losing her patience or if Karl was the type of man who would not respond to any other form of conversation. “Aziraphale trusts him. Andreios trusts him. He would not be here if that were not the case. If you feel my judgement is not adequate enough to make decisions for myself, I would hope that you might at least listen to the judgement of your captain and his right-hand man.”

Karl shut his mouth in reply, giving a firm nod as his face went completely blank. Crowley averted his gaze, hoping that doing so would make him feel less ill. He was already dealing with unpleasant memories being dragged to the the surface. There wasn’t much more he could take, at this point.

Before he could blink an eye, Danica lead him to the room in the back and shut the door tightly behind them, Karl still standing outside. It was a small room, as far as ones in the Hawk’s Keep were concerned. Only large enough to hold a few bookcases, couch, and desk, and yet it still felt open. Wide windows framed the back wall and the ceiling was higher than those in the serpiente palace. Not high enough for Danica or any other avian to comfortably fly, but certainly large enough to allow her to stretch her wings, should the need arise.

This was better. He was still close to outside, but the extra layer of glass blocked the wind from his face. He felt safer here. More secure, and Crowley felt himself exhale deeply before collapsing on the side of the deep red couch behind him.

“Are you alright?” Danica asked, coming to sit on the other end. This surprised Crowley, and he sat up a bit, hand reaching up to pull his long curls away from his face for a moment. “If I have upset you, or offended you in some way, I apologize.” She sighed, face falling into the hint of a frown. “There is still so much I do not understand about your people.”

Crowley tried to smile. He wanted to reassure her that none of this was her doing, but what could he say? How did he explain to her everything that had happened to him these past few years?

“In my eyes,” he began, hoping that the words would come naturally and he wasn’t about to make a giant fool of himself, “you are acting quite admirably.”

She smiled. A hesitant thing, but Crowley could feel her anxiety beginning to melt away. Not because she was forcing it into the deepest corner of herself, but because that feeling was slowly being replaced with a mixture of comfort and curiosity.

“Unfortunately, I happen to be a special case.” Crowley took a deep breath, and catching her gentle gaze with his own, he began to tell his story. 

“I was fifteen.” His mind took him back to that night and Crowley did his best to keep himself from falling apart before the story was finished. He didn’t hold his feelings back - rather let them flow through him. He acknowledged their existence, and then allowed them to drift away once more, choosing to focus not on how he was feeling, but on the words he was currently weaving together.

“Looking back, I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I left the safety of the nest.” He breathed in deep, amber eyes flicking down to the hands currently folded on his lap. A brief flicker of Aziraphale flashed through his mind and he wished more than anything the avian was here now, if only so Crowley could make him understand. So Crowley could share the deepest parts of himself - parts that no one else knew.

“I was shot by an avian bow.” The echo of a memory flashed through him and the serpent found himself wincing with the ghost of the pain that still haunted him. “Left to die in that field. I still remember what the poison felt like - burning through every part of me. I knew I was gone the moment I fell to the ground, but it felt like an eternity before darkness finally overtook me.”

Tears were pooling in his eyes and Crowley let them fall, but he did not look up from his lap. He did not look up at his queen’s face. The only way this story was getting finished was if he powered through to the very end. 

“Someone saved me,” he admitted, finally finding the courage to look up at Danica’s face. She was listening intently, hands folded properly on her lap, golden eyes shining with unshed tears. The avian queen may not know exactly what he had been through, but out of anyone he knew, she at least had something to compare it to. “I don’t know who it was or how he did it, but I woke up the following morning to a man singing at my side.”

Finally, Crowley allowed himself to remember. He allowed himself to be transported back to that moment, with the sun shining through the trees, illuminating the broad white wings and the halo of curls atop the man’s head. Now, when he thought back to that day, he imagined the shadows on the man’s face to be familiar ones. Crowley knew it was impossible that Aziraphale had been his angel, but he also recognized that he was in love with the avian man. Was it really so wrong to use fantasies such as these to bring him a sense of comfort when he felt like he was falling apart?

“Somehow, some _way,_ I survived that night. I made it back to the palace and spent weeks in bed, slipping in and out of consciousness.” It had been the most disorienting, painful days of his life. He couldn’t keep anything down, could barely sit up in bed, and every time he closed his eyes, his dreams had been plagued with fire and pain and the haunting music that refused to leave his memory. “When the poison finally left my system, I was able to rebuild my strength but - “

His voice caught in his throat as the words swirled around in his mind. It was difficult to believe he was about to reveal his deepest, most closely held secret, to any avian, let alone the woman who had become his Naga. “My serpent form is broken,” he breathed out, hands clinging tightly to each other as his stomach shifted unpleasantly. How could it not, when he forced himself to remember that he was a broken thing? Mangled and torn and missing pieces of himself. Pieces that he knew he would never get back. “The poison...did something to me. My other half, it isn’t gone completely. I can still shift into my demi-form, but the pain is excruciating. I tried it once, right after I returned to sha’Mehay and nearly passed out. And my full form...I can’t - “

Grief bubbled up inside him, choking off what he was trying to say. There were no words to describe what it was to lose a part of oneself the way Crowley had. Being a serpent was who he was. It was all he’d ever known. Coming to the realization that he would never feel the sun beating down on his scales or taste the air with a serpent’s tongue again had almost destroyed him. At fifteen years of age, he felt as if he had died, and the _only_ thing that kept him going, that calmed his nightmares and comforted him in his pain was the thought that his life had been spared for a reason.

“There are no words,” Danica began, her soft, golden eyes coming to rest on his face, “to describe the immense guilt and pain I feel for what this war has done to both sides.” Crowley could feel the sorrow rising in her chest and he felt a sudden need to comfort the young woman beside him. Their reality was hardly her fault. Danica had inherited a world of violence and hate, passed along by her predecessors and the decisions they made for the past thousand years.

Without thinking, he leaned forward, hand already reaching for hers. The moment their skin made contact, Danica jumped, reflexively pulling her hand back. Her eyes flew wide, if only for a moment, but relaxed the second she saw his retreat.

“ _Gods_ ,” Crowley gasped, his hand flying back to his side. Tears spilled over his eyes onto his cheeks once more as images of Aziraphale and the last night they’d spent together flashed through his mind. “I am so sorry. I wasn’t thinking and I just - I didn’t mean anything by it, I _swear_.”

Why did he keep making this mistake? Why did he keep scaring the people in his life away? Crowley knew the avians were a reserved people. He understood that physical touch between them was few and far between. If that fact hadn’t made sense to him before this trip, it should have by now. For the past day, Crowley had seen the evidence firsthand. Everywhere he looked, the avians kept their distance. They passed by with ample space on the streets. They stood at a respectable distance from each other when interacting. He had not seen a single couple in the marketplace holding hands. Not a single hug or handshake or physical contact of any kind.

It had been disorienting, at the start, which is why Crowley had been so happy to hear Adelina and Ailbhe were coming to join him. Apart from being some of his closest friends, they were also serpiente. They understood the need for community, for physical contact and reassurance. They were warm where the avian people were cold. They brought a sense of familiarity and comfort in a time and place where he’d never felt more alone.

Crowley had to do better. He’d seen with his own eyes how Aziraphale had allowed himself to open up when visiting the serpiente palace. That was one of the things the serpent loved about him so much. When faced with a strange, new culture, Aziraphale hadn’t run away. He’d given himself over to it. He interacted with the people and learned their history and chose not to hide his face. It was the very reason those in Crowley’s community viewed him with respect, not fear as they did the other avian soldiers.

Why couldn’t he do the same? Why was it so difficult for Crowley to remember to keep a respectful distance? That his touch was not wanted here.

“It’s alright, Crowley,” Danica was saying, leaning forward to place her hand on top of his own. A gesture of comfort that meant more to him than she could ever know. “I did not mean to pull away from you. You startled me, is all.” 

_You go too fast for me, Crowley._

The words stabbed at him again and the serpent let a fresh wave of tears fall. Why did it have to hurt like this? Why wouldn’t Aziraphale just talk to him? If only Crowley had a moment to explain himself. To apologize. To put things back the way they had been before.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, trying to wipe away the moisture from his face as he turned to look at his Naga’s face once more. “You asked to talk with me and I went and changed the subject on us both.”

Danica laughed, the glimmer of tears still in her eyes, although she had been successful in holding them back when Crowley had not. “We both seem to be a sight for sore eyes.”

This comment brought a soft chuckle to Crowley’s lips as well. He spent a moment simply concentrating on his breathing, trying to live in the here and now rather than in a past he wanted to forget and a future he longed for but could not find. It was Danica’s turn to share with him, and the serpent was determined to let her do just that. For as long as it took her to find her words, he would wait.

“You are close with Adelina, are you not?” the young woman finally asked, blinking slowly as she gazed up at his face. Crowley nodded his assurance, prompting his queen to continue. 

“What happened earlier, it was nothing. Rei - Andreios and I have been friends since we were children. He has served faithfully by my side all his life and had I chosen a different path, he would have been my pair bond.”

Crowley nodded his head in understanding. Even a blind serpent, or an avian for that matter, would have recognized the obvious care the Captain of the Royal Flight had for his Tuuli Thea. It went beyond the bond of a servant to his queen. Andreios loved her - would do anything for her. And as someone who had lost all but one member of her family, Danica would be a fool not to keep the relationships she did still have close to her heart.

“But, I chose _this_ path,” she insisted, voice filling with determination. “I am committed to keeping peace between our people and I respect Zane too much to ever do anything to hurt him in that way. I need Adelina to know that what she saw was not the whole picture.”

She took in a deep, shuddering breath, and then wavered. For a split second, Crowley could feel her beginning to retreat into herself, but then, she seemed to think better of it. Whether something he had done had made Danica feel safe with him, or if she had decided there was no space left for anything but honesty, he did not know.

“This peace has been difficult, for everyone involved,” she continued, choosing her words carefully. “Zane and I are asking the impossible of you all, and of ourselves. To come together, if not as one people, as two communities no longer plagued by hate and fear.”

“It takes much courage to overcome the fear we have known all their lives. Generations of bloodshed cannot be undone in a day, and I am trying my best.” Slowly, she removed her hand from him, placing it firmly back in her lap where it belonged. “Zane is a good person. He is deserving of respect and loyalty, and he is deserving of love. I am still unsure if I can be the one to give it to him, but I am trying my best and I _hope_ that Adelina, and the others, will find it in their hearts to see that.”

Crowley expected to feel shock at her admission, but the truth of her words made sense to him. Deep down, he had suspected their match had not been one of passion, but of necessity. He understood the need to keep such a confession secret from the serpiente people. Marriages of convenience were just another way to guard one’s true feelings. It was seen as a form of lie. Had they known the truth, Zane’s people would not have accepted the match and their fragile peace would have crumbled into nothing as soon as it had begun.

“Adelina won’t listen to me,” Danica remarked, finally coming to the main point of their meeting. “I have never known another soul to harbor as much hatred toward me as an individual. And I do not fault her for those feelings.”

The woman sighed, her eyes finally falling away from Crowley’s face. It was the most any avian other than Aziraphale had looked him in the eyes without being frozen on the spot in fear. “I cannot even imagine the pain she must be enduring. I just want her to know that I have found an unlikely ally in Zane. I respect him, and I respect the vows we made to each other. And I only hope that will be enough.”

“Will you talk to her?” The golden eyes were back, so similar in color to his own, and yet so foreign at the same time. “For me? Try to get her to understand? I plan on seeing this arrangement to the end - whatever form that may take - and the last thing I want is for her to spend the rest of her life consumed with anger and hate.”

It was a tall ask, one that Crowley was not even sure he could fulfil. The last time he had talked to Adelina about the avians, she had nearly pushed him to the ground in her anger. After what he’d felt from her today, the serpent wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t try to rip his head off. But, he owed it to Danica to try. No matter what their relationship looked like now, it was because of her he had Aziraphale in his life. Things may be strained between them now, but Crowley wouldn’t have given that up for anything. He had to hold onto hope that things would get better. Someway. Somehow.

Maybe this could be how he could help. Maybe through talking to Adelina, he could set both people on a course where their tentative peace could last. Maybe that would be enough to show Aziraphale that he cared. That he wanted this to work between them. And not just them as individuals, but the cultures that they belonged to.

He wanted this peace to last. He wanted to walk the streets of the Hawk’s Keep and not have children running from him in fear. He wanted people like Danica to look him in the eyes when they spoke to him. He wanted the fighting to be over, once and for all.

Maybe this was how he could finally start down that path. At the very least, it couldn’t hurt to try.

“I’ll do my best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter decided to take a bit of a different turn. Originally, I'd planned on Crowley going to talk to Adelina after she stormed off, but after re-reading the section in the original book, I thought it was better served to show some interaction with Danica and Crowley instead.
> 
> My next chapter has also altered a bit, which I am super excited about, but probably means I'm going to write a sequel to this story once the events of Hawksong has come to an end. There are some questions I think will arise that I won't be able to answer without introducing some elements of the world that aren't revealed until Snakecharm and later books. So, thank you to all of you who have stuck with me this far. I've only got 3 or 4 chapters left in this story (most likely 3 and an epilogue), so I am making this my top priority so I can try and wrap it up by the end of this month!


	17. Chapter 17

Before he knew it, Midsummer was upon them. Aziraphale accompanied Zane and Danica back to the serpiente palace in order to make their preparations. From the little he had learned about their culture, this holiday was among the most celebrated throughout the year. It was a time for the serpents to remember their history. A time to celebrate life and the upcoming harvest. To drink and eat and dance the night away. 

Aziraphale’s job would be to do none of those things, of course. Tensions were still high after the assassination attempt on Zane’s life and Andreios had made it clear that Aziraphale was not to leave Danica’s side during the festivities. They would start at sundown and carry on well into the morning. Naturally, there would be other guards around in the earlier hours. Aziraphale was still on the later shift and would be expected to take over after the official dance in the synkal was complete.

This expectation, as usual, gave him a certain amount of free time in the early afternoon with which to occupy himself. Instead of returning to the library where he had spent a great deal of his free time recently, Aziraphale found himself wandering around the market. The space was filled with exotic scents and more colorful hues than the avian had ever seen in one place before. He took a moment to look down at his own pale white shirt and grey trousers, feeling horribly underdressed. Every serpent he passed by was adorned with brightly colored silks, trimmed with gold or silver. They smelled of sharp spices that reminded him of autumn and danced down the streets to the sound of the flute and drum.

“Quite a sight to behold, is it not, Dove-let?”

At the familiar nickname, Aziraphale turned to find A’isha approaching him from behind. She was dressed from head to toe in a deep emerald silk, as much of herself exposed as it was hidden. Tiny bells jingled along the hem of her waist as she walked, her long black hair swishing back and forth with the movement.

Aziraphale greeted her with a soft smile, a pang echoing throughout his heart at the realization that Crowley and the other dancers of sha’Mehay were not with her. He did not try to hide his feelings this time and A’isha, ever the observant one, shot him a knowing look before turning her gaze down the streets, watching a group of serpiente children running by.

“Will you be doing much dancing?” he asked the older woman, letting his eyes drift over the many small diases being set up around the market. Would they all be used at some point today? Surely there were more of them than dancers in sha’Mehay. Did other serpents take time to utilize them during the festivities? A’isha had once told him that all serpiente children were taught to dance from a very young age. It only made sense they would take time to exercise that gift, on this most special of nights.

“Here and there,” the woman replied, a hint of a smile tugging at her painted lips. “It is a balance, to still wish to participate, but to keep in mind that this celebration is not about me. I wish to observe as much as I am observed.”

Slowly, the avian nodded his head. It seemed like a good enough mentality as any. Of course, Aziraphale couldn’t say the same about himself. The dancing lessons with Crowley had stopped after their kiss in the synkal, but even if they had proceeded, Aziraphale doubted he would be good enough to perform in front of an audience today.

At a loss for something else to say, Aziraphale turned his attention back to the celebration quickly unfolding before his eyes. There was something inherently different about the serpiente people - the way that they moved and interacted with each other. It brought such energy to the space and the avian found himself longing to join in.

Blue eyes danced over the crowd, coming to a halt when they caught sight of a familiar head of red hair. Aziraphale’s heart leapt into his throat and all he could do was stare as Crowley made his way through the crowd, flanked on either side by two dancers that looked somewhat familiar.

He was sure, given the right motivation, Aziraphale would be able to remember their names. All desire for that, however, went out the window when Crowley and his companions pushed through the next layer of people and the avian saw for the first time his serpiente friend in all his glory.

Azirapahle had thought once before that Crowley was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, that night they’d shared in the synkal. He still held true to that fact, but this was something new. This was a different kind of beauty. Striking where the man had once been subtle. Bold instead of gentle. It was no less breathtaking, and Aziraphale found it impossible to look away.

Crowley hadn’t seen him yet, and for that Aziraphale was grateful. He didn’t know what he would have done had the man looked up to see him staring. In fact, Aziraphale noticed he wasn’t the only one. Several sets of eyes - men and women alike - turned to gaze at the dancers as they wove their way through the crowd. 

They were all dressed in their very best. Robes made of multicolored silk, trimmed with gold and silver and tiny bells announcing their arrival. From his peripherals, Aziraphale could see the female dancers were also quite striking, but he could not find the willpower to tear his attention away from Crowley. He was absolutely stunning. Deep sapphire silken pants lay sinched around his ankles, the bright silver vines embroidered across the hem flashing in the sunlight. With each step he took, pale skin peeked out from a slit running up the side of his leg. From the waist up, he was wearing nothing more than a collection of blue and silver necklaces, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Aziraphale could see every minute movement of every muscle. His strong arms and well defined torso. The sight of him made the avian feel weak at the knees.

Fire burned in the pit of his stomach as a woman with dark, braided hair and piercing sapphire eyes reached out to touch the edge of Crowley’s bare shoulder. He turned to greet her with a soft smile and she leaned in to kiss him. Once on each cheek, then she leaned in and placed one on his lips.

Aziraphale wanted to march up to her right then and there. He wanted to take Crowley’s hand and pull him away from her, if only to ease this sudden discomfort he was feeling. What was this? Jealousy? Aziraphale had no right to be jealous. Crowley had kissed him in the same way just over two weeks ago and the avian had rejected him. Who was he to expect the serpent to wait around when Aziraphale’s answer had been ‘no’? It wasn’t fair of him to want that. And yet, he did.

Very quickly, Crowley pulled away, reaching up to give her hand a friendly pat before moving onward and Aziraphale visibly relaxed, ashamed of the sudden torrent of emotions swirling inside him. Crowley had every right to kiss whomever he wished, and Aziraphale should _not_ feel relieved to see the man anxious to move away from such affections.

Above all, Aziraphale wanted Crowley to be happy. Whatever that may look like.

“Here.”

Aziraphale tore his eyes away from Crowley for one moment, attention immediately falling to the piece of golden and crimson cloth in A’isha’s hands. At either end no less than two dozen tiny bells were sewn into the silken fabric, jingling softly with each tiny movement of her wrist. Blue eyes gazed up at her face and the woman smiled in a way that said she understood his situation more than she was letting on.

“I have a feeling you might need it more than I will today.”

The avian took it with cautious hands, marveling at the intricate details woven with each strand of thread. “It’s beautiful,” he remarked, trying to keep his eyes and attention fixed on the current conversation and not the strikingly beautiful red-haired serpent that was currently weaving his way through the crowds with some of the other dancers. “What is it for?”

Once again, A’isha smiled. “This, Ak'varleah, is a _melos_. On this very special of nights, they are given to dancers as praise for their skills and a request for a performance. Should that be what you desire.”

Against his will, Aziraphale’s gaze once again fell on Crowley. Even from several dozen feet away, he could see the bright smile adorning the man’s face as he greeted the people in his community. His laugh drifted forward through the crowd and the sound of it stirred something in Aziraphale. The simultaneous desire to be closer and spark of fear at that very thought.

Turning back toward A’isha, Aziraphale held out the garment. “I couldn’t possibly take this from you,” he protested, hoping she might take it back. “You obviously intended for someone else to have it tonight.”

The woman simply shrugged, smile never fading from her lips. “I can see her dance anytime,” was all she offered as an explanation. When Aziraphale still did not move, his fingers clenching softly around the melodious fabric, A’isha took a half step forward, her emerald eyes dancing in the slowly setting sun.

“Have we all,” she began, voice taking on a more serious tone, “not lived enough of our lives in fear? Wouldn’t you say it is about time to let love take a chance instead, Dove-let?”

Slowly, her eyes lifted, but this time it wasn’t towards the red-haired serpent that had captured Aziraphale’s thoughts, but to a very different couple currently being ushered onto a dias across the marketplace. A crowd had gathered around them, cheering as they moved to the music, the man reaching out to hold his mate’s hand, the curls of her honey brown hair blowing gently in the wind. A wind that carried the sound of her laugh across the market for all to hear.

Tears sprung to his eyes as Aziraphale watched the scene unfold. He hadn’t heard Danica laugh in years. In fact, he couldn’t remember even seeing her genuinely smile since Xavier’s death over eight months prior. And here she was, dancing with her prince, surrounded by dozens of serpents. Bold and beautiful and completely unafraid.

For the first time since Danica had taken her place as Tuuli Thea, Aziraphale had the thought that this peace between their kingdoms might actually last. Danica had made her place here among the serpiente people. They were embracing her. Urging her on when she stumbled and cheering for her when she got the steps right, Zane by her side the entire time. From where he was standing, Aziraphale couldn’t see the man’s face, but he didn’t need to in order to tell how happy the pair was in this moment.

There was no way to know exactly what had happened. Whether it was the recent attempt on their lives, Danica’s bold and selfless sacrifice, or the ambiance of the holiday - whatever the reason, something had shifted in their dynamic. If it wasn’t love, it was most certainly a mutual respect and blossoming friendship. If Danica could wholly and truly take that leap of faith, didn’t he owe it to her to do the same?

Didn’t he owe it to himself, to finally stop denying what he’d wanted for so long?

“Excuse me one moment, A’isha,” Aziraphale began, turning back toward her only to find that the dancer was no longer with him. He scanned the crowd a few moments longer, but could find no trace of her knee length ebony hair or the deep emerald clothes she had been wearing. The woman had disappeared into the throng of other serpents, more pouring into the area by the second as the festivities had already begun.

Summoning every ounce of courage he possessed, Aziraphale located Crowley once more in the crowd and stepped forward, melos held gently between his fingers. The soft jingle of the golden bells soothed him, and he did his best to keep his eyes fixed on the man as he approached, not wanting to lose sight of him in the crowd.

Bit by bit, Aziraphale closed the distance between them until he was within arms reach of the dancer. Not wanting to allow his fear to give him away, Aziraphale reached forward and lightly tapped on the exposed skin where the muscles of his shoulder met his neck. A sharp bolt of energy shot up his arm and Aziraphale was torn between pulling away in shock and letting his fingers linger just a bit longer.

Crowley turned around and froze, uncertainly flickering in his bright amber eyes. Aziraphale felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he gazed upon the man that he considered his closest friend. He had done this. He had caused this rift between them, with his hesitancy - his fear. The avian still didn’t know what to do with this attraction he felt towards Crowley, but at the very least, he wanted them to be friends again.

When it came down to it, Aziraphale missed Crowley. He missed going on walks and sitting in the library. He missed teaching each other about their cultures and learning about each other’s lives. He missed the man’s laugh and his contagious smile. The way his eyes lit up whenever Aziraphale walked into the room.

He missed the way Crowley’s hands fit inside his when they danced. 

“Aziraphale,” the serpent breathed, a cautious hope lighting up the features of his angular face. Aziraphale’s eyes drifted to his hair, marveling at the intricate braids that wove their way into a crown around his head, leaving only the softest of curls dangling from either side. “Um, hi.”

Not knowing what to say, the avian lifted his hands, red and gold garment still resting between his fingertips. “For you,” he murmured, aware that several jewel colored eyes were now turning their attention toward the odd pair. Those that knew Crowley were likely aware of his strange friendship with Aziraphale, but somehow the avian doubted they knew the extent of it, or understood what an avian soldier would be doing with a melos during their celebration.

Amber eyes widened in shock. If he looked closely, Aziraphale thought there might just be the suggestion of tears making their way to the surface, which only caused his fractured heart to ache more.

There were so many things he wished he could say. Apologies for how he’d left things between them. Hopes he had for the future and the fears that went with them. If he’d had the chance, Aziraphale would have whisked Crowley away from the crowd and the other serpents gathering around them, so they might have a moment alone for him to try and make things right.

But he didn’t have that chance. He was here, now, and he would have to make the best of things. However he could.

Tentatively, the serpent reached out his hand and took the melos from Aziraphale, carefully avoiding any skin to skin contact. A pang of longing reverberated in his chest and the avian tried not to take it personally. He understood Crowley was only being cautious. After everything they’d been through these past two weeks, he would be a fool not to.

 _I’m sorry_ , he wanted to say, but there were people around, and Aziraphale couldn’t explain himself the way he wanted to with so many eyes upon them.

 _Let’s go back to the way things were,_ except that wasn’t what he wanted now, was it? Aziraphale wanted to move forward. He didn’t know what that would look like, and he knew it wouldn’t come without its challenges, but surely A’isha was right. Surely letting love lead the way was better than succumbing to fear.

Was that what this was, this intense longing to be by Crowley’s side? This rapid beating of his heart whenever the serpent looked his way? Did Aziraphale love Crowley as more than a friend? He’d never felt anything like this before, not even with Claire. Yes, Aziraphale had loved her with all his heart. As a mentor, a protector - as her Alistair. But avians were a reserved people. Passionate love affairs were cautionary tales told to warn adolescents of the dangers listening to their hearts instead of their heads could do. In his twenty-one years, Aziraphale had known many pair bonds who loved one another. His parents loved each other. Gabriel and his mate had loved each other. But deep down, he knew that those relationships had been nothing like what he was experiencing now.

Aziraphale loved this man like no other he had ever known. It was electric - all consuming. It invaded his every waking thought, permeated through his dreams while he slept. This aching feeling that clung to him and was only lifted when he saw Crowley’s smile. This desire to do anything and everything to see that smile come to fruition. It had to be love. 

There was no other explanation.

“Do you - “ Crowley’s voice was soft, his amber eyes flicking down to the piece of fabric now sitting in his hands. “I didn’t know you knew what this was.”

Aziraphale nodded his head, trying his best to ignore the gazes on him - some confused, others distrustful and unnerved by his proximity. “A’isha explained it to me.”

“Well,” the serpent replied, a smile spreading out across his peach colored lips that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “What request do you have for me? Your wish is my command.”

He bowed with a flourish, eliciting giggles from several of the young women standing nearby. Aziraphale allowed himself to smile, despite the way his heart was thudding almost painfully against his chest. He knew what he wanted to do next. The question was - would his courage hold out?

“I’d like you to dance ‘The Seasons’,” Aziraphale announced, to the surprise of many people still gathered around them. It was the first dance Crowley had taught him and held a special place in his heart. It had been through those lessons that Aziraphale had first come to trust the serpent. Giving himself over to Crowley’s direction and having the dancer give himself over to Aziraphale’s lead in return while they practiced had been the opening of a floodgate. He only hoped Crowley might understand what he was trying to say.

The false smile fell as the dancer stood back up to his full height. “I can’t do that, I’m sorry.”

Couldn’t dance ‘The Seasons’? Aziraphale was at a loss for words. It was possible he’d overlooked something, but as far as he was aware, this celebration featured dances of many natures. Yes, a vast majority of the dances seen here tonight were scenes from the Namir-da, retelling the history of his people, but Aziraphale didn’t think there was any rule against certain dances being performed. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration of life and of music and dance. What better way than to dance in celebration of the earthly cycle of the seasons?

“You...can’t?” Aziraphale didn’t understand. Why did Crowley look so upset all of a sudden? It wasn’t that he couldn’t physically perform the dance. Aside from A’isha, Crowley was the best dancer in sha’Mehay. He had the skills. So why wouldn’t he do it? “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a partnered dance,” the serpent explained, once again hiding his gaze from Aziraphale. What he wouldn’t give to be able to reach across the space between them, place his fingers underneath Crowley’s chin, and gently lift him up until they could look at each other face to face. But there were too many people here, and the avian felt frozen under so many jeweled gazes. 

“Is there not someone here who would dance with you?” Aziraphale knew dancing was sacred to Crowley’s people. There were some dances in his culture that were only performed with certain people, some that a mated man would not dance unless done so with his mate. Was that what Crowley was worried about? It couldn’t be. Aziraphale had specifically chosen a dance he knew, one that he had danced time and time again _with_ Crowley. So what was the problem?

Several of the dancers perked up at this question, but remained silent as Crowley finally looked up to meet his gaze. He looked so sad in that moment, like a warrior who had realized the battle had been lost. The serpiente dancer had already surrendered, that much was clear in his eyes. To what, Aziraphale did not know.

“I can’t dance with just anyone; it wouldn’t be the same,” was all he said, reaching out to hand the melos back to Aziraphale. Tears pricked at the avian’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Instead, he silently took the garment back and waited until Crowley turned to leave before asking.

“Will you dance with me then?”

The serpent whirled around, eyes widening in shock as his gaze drifted first to Aziraphale’s face, then down to the melos still resting in his outstretched hand, then back to his face, confusion written in every crevice of his striking features.

“You want to dance with me?”

Aziraphale smiled and nodded his head softly. A strangled sound caught in Crowley’s throat. Something akin to a mixture of a sob and cry of relief. Finally, a bright-as-the-sun smile broke out over the serpent’s face and he practically raced over to the nearest dias, slim fingers wrapped firmly around Aziraphale’s wrist, preventing him from escaping.

As if there was anywhere else the Avian wanted to be.

The musicians that had set up next to the makeshift stage settled themselves in, blowing air through their flutes and testing the sound of their drums while avian and serpiente took their starting positions. With a shy smile, Crowley stepped forward and took the melos from Aziraphale’s hand, slinging it around the avian’s neck and tying it off in a simple knot to keep it from falling. Aziraphale smiled back, reaching out his hand and stepping into the position of the male dancer.

This particular dance was one of alternating leads. The seasons shifted gracefully from one dancer to the next, trading off who was in the spotlight and which person played a supporting role. Traditionally, when a couple performed, the male took on the roles of Summer and Winter, the steadfast seasons. Dependable. Reliable. Constant in their existence. The woman told the story of Spring and Autumn. Seasons of variability and change. 

Though he was male by birth, Crowley danced as gracefully as any female Aziraphale had ever seen. His entire body shone in the sunlight as he began to move to the beat of the drum. The soft flute music filled the air and Aziraphale stepped forward, slipping his hand into Crowley’s as the serpent finished his solo introduction, spinning him closer until the man was pressed up against his chest - a representation of the days growing longer and warmer as Spring made way to Summer.

That was how the dance played out. Alternating sections of solo and partnered dancing until the cycle was complete. Remembering Crowley’s teachings, Aziraphale let the music move through him. He didn’t think about each step individually, but rather the dance as a whole. He thought about what it meant in a historical sense, remembering that no matter how bad a particular year had been, spring, summer, autumn, and winter were always there to greet them, without fail. He thought about what the dance meant to the people currently gathering to watch them dance - how with this peace Danica and Zane had brought, they were all entering into a new season of not just their lives, but of the existence of the world as a whole. It was still in it’s tumultuous phase, like the early days of spring and its constant rainfall, but there was hope that the sun would break through the clouds and bring summer once more.

And Aziraphale thought about what it meant to him personally. The changing seasons had always been a metaphor for phases in life. Aziraphale found that, perhaps, he was at a crossroads. He was entering into a new phase of his life, one that had seemed frightening up until this point, but it was one he desperately wanted to see through, now that he’d reached the point of no return. 

It may have taken him months to realize, but Aziraphale could no longer imagine his life without Crowley in it. They were friends, at the very least. And maybe more...if Crowley still wanted that. If Aziraphale could find it within himself to be brave enough.

_Have we all not lived enough of our lives in fear? Wouldn’t you say it is about time to let love take a chance instead?_

Something happened as they danced. They reached the halfway point and Crowley stepped away from him, spinning around several times, all the while keeping their hands linked until the very last second, representing the leaves clinging to the treetops with all their might, until the first frost blew in and forced them to the ground. 

Out of all the pieces of this dance, this section was the most challenging, because it involved Aziraphale, as the support member, to stay connected to Crowley as he moved around the stage. This was done first by gripping the serpent by his forearm, then his wrist and hand, until only their fingertips were touching.

As his hand slowly slid down Crowley’s bare arm, Aziraphale allowed himself to gaze upon his partner. He allowed himself to feel the full joy around him as serpents watched on, allowed himself to appreciate every small movement of Crowley’s strong form. Every flex of every muscle. Every breath moving in and out of his lungs. Every glimmer of sunlight bouncing off his sweat-stained skin. He was a beautiful sight to behold and Aziraphale found he could not get enough.

There was an energy between them he could not explain. A thrill of power that banished all his fears, his worries, his exhaustion. Aziraphale felt more _alive_ than he ever had in his life. He felt like he could do anything. Wrestle a bear or fly to the moon. He felt as though he might explode into a thousand of tiny starlit pieces, his light shining bright for generations to come.

In that moment, he felt complete like he never had before. He felt whole, when his whole life, even if he hadn't realized it until this very moment, he'd been broken.

They were only connected by the brush of fingertips now, as the music shifted from Autumn to Winter. With one final glance of his amber eyes, Crowley drifted away and Aziraphale felt their connection begin to falter. The energy inside his body pulsed once, burning bright within him, then began to slowly fade in intensity.

Measure by measure, the music slowed and the dancers came to face one another for the final steps of the dance. They circled around one another, like two leaves spiraling to the forest floor. At the sound of his cue, Aziraphale moved inward, his arms spread wide to welcome Crowley home, the final nod to winter’s soft blanket, covering all within its touch.

The second Aziraphale’s fingertips brushed up against Crowely’s arm once more, he felt that same spark of intense energy. It flooded through him like a lightning strike and he gasped with the sensation. Air flowed into his lungs and his mind buzzed with a feeling unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

Was Crowley experiencing the same thing? Did he feel this _thing_ coursing between them, or was it all in the avian’s head? Aziraphale wanted to stop and ask, but their dance was not quite over. There was one final step to be performed.

Diverting from the dozens of times they had rehearsed this dance before, Aziraphale let this new energy fill him. He closed his eyes as he felt Crowley’s hand come to rest on his forearm. This was where they’d always stopped before. A gentle touch - the suggestion of Azirpahale’s embrace moving to cover Crowley’s smaller form. Autumn coming to its final resting place as Winter took over.

Aziraphale didn’t want to stop here, with enough space for a whole other person between them. He wanted Crowley as close to him as possible. He wanted to thread his fingers through the curls spilling out of his braids and feel the serpent’s warm breath against the skin of his neck. He wanted to hold Crowley close to his heart and never let him go.

As if sensing his deepest desires, Aziraphale’s body took a gentle step forward on its own accord. He watched as Crowley’s eyes widened, in part due to the unexpected contact and the fondness shining in his soft blue eyes, and partly because of the gentle white wings that had sprung forth from Aziraphale's demi-form, spreading wide for only a moment before coming to cover Crowley’s form like a blanket of newly fallen snow.

“Wha…?” he heart the serpent asking, his amber eyes flickering back and forth from Aziraphale’s face to his wings and the sunlight shining through each and every feather, making them glow like molten gold.

The music stopped and the applause sounded to end their dance, but Aziraphale barely heard it. All that existed in the world was him and Crowley, gathered in this embrace beneath the canopy of his wings, two hearts beating as one.

It was pure magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I decided to break this chapter up into two. It was getting a bit long and there are two scenes I want to write from Crowley's perspective before Aziraphale's next scene. It made sense to combine them together, so I have updated the expected chapter number for this fic. I'm on a roll with this one, so be on the lookout for the next few chapters coming up this week. I think we'll be finishing out by the end of the month, no problem. 
> 
> Thank you so much to those of you who have left kudos and comments on this fic. When I started writing it, I genuinely had no expectation anyone would read it, let alone stick around for nearly a year to see it to the end. We're at the finish line now. Those of you who have read the book know what's coming next. Those of you who haven't, buckle up :) the story isn't quite over yet <3


	18. Chapter 18

All his life, Crowley had been told stories of the shm’Ahnmik. The falcons who lived in the white city across the sea. Legends told wonders of their ageless beauty and the sound that sang through the hills. The streets that shimmered with light and the magic hovering in the air with every breath that they breathed, constantly spinning and shifting like falling leaves in an autumn breeze. 

He’d never understood what that meant until he had danced with Aziraphale upon that stage. There had been a moment, halfway through their rendition, that Crowley had felt the energy come alive in him. Dancing was always a sacred act in their culture. It was a way to express emotion when words could do it no justice. A way to tell the stories of their people.

Crowley had danced with many people in his nineteen years of life. He had danced with Aziraphale many dozen times since the start of winter, and yet he had never experienced anything like this before. He didn’t know if it was a change in the way he felt toward the avian man - the fact that he now realized he was desperately and hopelessly in love, or if the celebration of the changing seasons amplified those feelings within him. Whatever the reason, Crowley had come alive in their dance. Heart racing as fast as an avians, feeling like he just might be able to fly.

And then, the song had ended and Aziraphale had pulled him close. He’d opened up his wings and folded them around Crowley’s form, pressing the serpent up against his chest in a gentle, protective embrace, and Crowley had nearly burst into tears. He’d spent the past two weeks fearing it was over between him and Aziraphale, and here he was, being embraced, if not as a lover, as a very dear friend.

Now that they had stepped down off the dias and Aziraphale’s wings had been tucked away once more, Crowley was at a loss for what to do. More than anything, he wanted to reach forward and take the avian’s hand in his own. He wanted, not to claim the other man as his own, but offer himself up to the one who had captured his heart so completely. Crowley wanted to stay by Aziraphale’s side for the rest of forever. He wanted to be free to love this man with all his heart, without the fear of what anyone might say or what would happen to them, should this peace not last.

There was fear. It bubbled up inside him the moment Aziraphale turned around and offered a tentative smile. What if Crowley did something wrong again? What if he pushed too far and scared the avian off for good? Crowley couldn’t live with that. If the dance they’d just performed proved anything, it was that he needed Aziraphale in his life. Aziraphale was the light in his darkness. His hope for the future. He was Crowley’s very best friend and these past few weeks without him had been a nightmare he did not wish to relive anytime soon.

So, instead of reaching out to offer his hand, the serpent fell into step beside the avian guard, gently guiding them to all his favorite places throughout the forum. Each year, the shops and stands changed a little bit, but the good ones stuck around through each new season. The pair talked and laughed as they walked, drawing the attention of many serpents as they passed by, but Crowley didn’t care. They weren’t doing anything wrong. In fact, by the few glimpses he’d seen of Danica and Zane throughout the evening, he would be so bold as to say they were doing something  _ right _ .

“I need to head back to the synkal,” Aziraphale admitted as the sun began to kiss the tops of the treeline in the distance. “My shift starts as soon as Irene and Galen have finished their dance.”

Crowley nodded, a heavy feeling settling into his chest at the thought of having to say goodbye to Aziraphale. What would tomorrow bring? Were they falling back into the familiar patterns of before, or did he dare to hope that Aziraphale wanted more? There was a deep yearning inside him to know, effectively countered by the fear that welled up inside him at the thought. What if he asked and Aziraphale walked away? How was he supposed to exist without the avian man in his life.

The serpiente people mated for love and they mated for life. Many of them believed in the concept of destiny - that there was one person in all the world meant especially for them. It was why they so often saw widows and widowers never take another mate, even decades after their first had passed on. Crowley had never stopped to consider his own feelings on the matter until now. Now, he understood. Feeling like this for someone, there was no comparison. He would never love another person as much as he loved Aziraphale. No one else could ever come close. 

If Aziraphale wasn’t meant for him - if Aziraphale didn’t want him, Crowley would never find another. There was no one else he wanted to be with. No one else he wanted to spend his days with, talking about everything and nothing at all. No one he wanted to try new things with or explore the world with. No one else he wanted to dance with.

No one he wanted to hold close while he slept.

Serpents were never alone. It was not in their nature. Growing up, if their parents weren’t around, they stayed in a communal nursery, surrounded by other children their own age. When they grew older, they took on a mate, or found solace within the community. Some became soldiers and slept with others in the barracks. Others, like Crowley, became dancers in sha’Mehey.

What would his life be like, if Aziraphale did not want a romantic relationship with him? What would it be like if he did? Would the avian be content to share a bed with him, or would he prefer a space of his own? Crowley hadn’t encountered many avian couples - none that he knew very well, at least, but with the way they behaved in public, it wouldn’t surprise him to find out they preferred separate sleeping arrangements, even among members of the same household.

Could he live like that? Did it even really matter? Aziraphale hadn’t said a single thing about the kiss they’d shared or how he felt toward Crowley. The serpent was likely setting himself up for further heartache just by thinking through these hypotheticals, but he couldn’t help it. His heart wanted them so very much.

“Right then,” he forced himself to say, bringing a polite smile to his face. “I suppose I’ll see you around then? Maybe sometime later this week?”

_ Please say yes,  _ Crowley found himself thinking as he waited for Aziraphale’s response.  _ Please still want to be around me. Please don’t let this be a fluke. Please still want to be my friend. _

He didn’t dare ask for more. The fact that Aziraphale was talking to him again,  _ smiling _ at him again, should be more than enough for Crowley. What right did he have to ask for anything more?

“Would you like to meet up for a walk tomorrow afternoon?” Aziraphale asked suddenly, hesitating on his way back inside. There was still a rather large crowd gathered outside, but some had begun to make their way back into the palace. A bit more setup was likely needed in the synkal before the night’s final events and Crowley assumed they were headed inside to lend a hand.

“A walk?” he found himself asking aloud, dumbfounded by the suggestion. What did it mean? Did Aziraphale want some time alone with him? Or was he just looking for something new to do now that the weather was warmer and the rains had ceased for the time being?

Aziraphale laughed, his soft blue eyes lighting up with a fondness Crowley hoped was meant only for him. “I would have asked if you wanted to dance again, but I figured we might both be a bit too tired for that, after today.”

Crowley’s eyes widened in shock as he tried to convince his heart to stop beating so fast. Aziraphale wanted to spend time with him? Aziraphale wanted to  _ dance _ with him again. Surely, that had to mean something. 

Without thinking, his hand lifted up to rest gently on the shimmering crimson and gold fabric still fastened securely around the avian’s neck. Slowly, Aziraphale turned to face him and Crowley froze. What was he thinking? Had he learned nothing from what happened between them the last time he moved too fast?

“Do you want it back?” Aziraphale asked softly, his eyes shifting to meet Crowley’s gaze. In that moment, the rest of the world fell away around them. Just as when they had danced, Aziraphale was the only other person in existence. 

Crowley wanted to stay in this moment forever.

“It is yours, after all,” the avian was explaining as Crowley finally let his hand fall back to his side. “I intended it for you.”

Quickly, the serpent shook his head, shivering as a breeze blew through the market, brushing up against his bare skin. “You more than earned it today,” he assured, offering up a genuine smile, resisting the urge to take a half step closer and bask in the avian’s warmth. 

A frown made its way slowly onto Aziraphale’s face and Crowley tried his best not to panic. What had he done this time? Was it something he’d said? Something he had or hadn’t done?

“Well then,” Aziraphale began, reaching up to untie the loose knot resting over his heart. “At least hold onto it for me. For the time being.” Once freed, the avian shook the garment out, reaching across Crowley’s back to drape it across his bare shoulders, the tiny bells chiming with every small movement. “The night’s taken on a bit of a chill, wouldn’t you say?”

Crowley’s heart stopped beating for just a second as he felt the ghost of Aziraphale’s fingertips against his neck as the avian withdrew his arm. Had that touch been intentional? Or was it an unfortunate accident? He desperately wished he had the courage to ask what the other man was thinking, but the words died in his throat. He was unable to do anything but gaze over at the other man, heart racing inside his chest, knowing that there was no amount of distance he could close between them that would ever bring Aziraphale close enough to him.

He was selfish and desperate and terrified, the longing inside him threatening to devour him whole. 

The pair retreated inside, Crowley keeping a tight hold of the melos still hung around him. It didn’t do much to ward off the wind, but the simple memory of what had transpired was enough to set the serpent’s blood on fire.

Inside, a large dias had been set up in the center of the room. Ten paces across in any direction and nearly as high as the tallest serpiente could reach while standing on their toes. It was surrounded by a row of torches all along the edge that would create the only discernible source of light in the whole room once the sun finally vanished behind the treetops. 

At the back of the room stood the stage, the very place Danica had first stepped out to meet her people. She was standing there now, in front of a row of seats reserved for the royal family to watch the final festivities. Zane was at her side, arm resting gently on her waist as people behind them began to fill the halls. Excited chatter began to echo across the vaulted ceiling as more and more people began to enter the space, meeting up with friends and finding the best place to sit so they wouldn’t miss the performance that was to come.

“Have a good night,” Crowley managed to say as Aziraphale took a step closer to where Andreios and some of the other Royal Flight were already standing, perched on either side of the stage. There were no weapons allowed in the synkal under any circumstances, but that did not prevent either of the two men Crowley could see from looking scarily intimidating. Even if he did have a blade and knew how to use it, the serpent would have been hesitant to tangle with any of them. He was certain they would snap his neck in an instant, should he desire to get too close.

“You too,” Azriaphale responded softly, his eyes shining in the torchlight. Crowley was certain he could stare at them for hours and never grow tired. “Sleep well.”

With that, he was gone. Disappearing into the crowd as he made his way to the stage at the back, leaving Crowley alone with a heavy feeling in his chest, lightened only by the promise of interacting with Aziraphale again tomorrow and the kiss of soft fabric still wrapped tightly around his shoulders. A memory of the special moments they had shared that day.

Soon enough, the forest’s shadows fell over them and the torches around the exterior of the room were extinguished. Zane took his place in the center of the dias, welcoming them all with words of gratitude and celebration. He took his time, telling the story of Maeve and Kiesha - the story of their people. He talked of the history of both Ahnmik and Anhamirak, the appearance of Leben and Maeve’s seduction of him, ultimately bestowing them all with the second skin of a serpent.

Through most of it, Crowley kept his eyes on the stage at the back. From his position on the right side of the room, he could see several of the royal family, all sitting in their comfortable chairs upon the stage. Danica was seated in the center, Zane’s empty chair to her right, Lady Charis to her left. Irene and Galen had also been seated with them, although Crowley knew they would vacate their seats shortly when it was time for them to approach the dias and start their dance.

He chose that vantage point, not to keep an eye on his Naga, but to watch her protector. Aziraphale had placed himself in the corner of the stage closest to Danica. He was facing outward, eyes watching the crowd for any sign of trouble. Not that any was expected. Someone would have to be insane to try anything with this many people around. They would never get away with it.

Ailbhe was there too, standing stoically on the opposite side of the stage, closest to where Irene and her mate were positioned. Crowley supposed, if Adelina had chosen to partake in the celebrations that night, she too would have been at the back of the crowd, watching with her intense, emerald colored eyes.

Unfortunately, his friend had chosen to forsake the entire festival. Crowley had tried talking to her, just as he’d promised Danica he would. He’d tried talking to her at the Hawk’s Keep, but she’d lashed out at him, calling out his betrayal for siding with a hawk over his supposed friend. He’d tried talking to her when they’d arrived home and she’d ignored him. He’d even tried talking to her earlier that morning - tried to convince her to go with him to the market and dance together like they had previous years when he’d been teaching her some of the more advanced set of steps. Adelina was having none of it. She’d shut herself away in her room and had refused to speak to him except to tell him to go away.

Crowley knew she was hurting. He understood how participating tonight and seeing Zane and Danica together, laughing and smiling together would be painful for her, so the serpent hadn’t pressed her. He’d left with a heavy heart and a grim determination to get through this day as best he could so that he, too, could lock himself away and lament over his broken heart for a while.

That had all changed, of course, the moment Aziraphale had handed him the melos. All thoughts of Adelina had flown out the window as he and the avian man had started to dance, except to wish that she might have a change of heart and decide to join in on the celebrations.

Only once did Aziraphale’s gaze meet his the entire time Zane was speaking, and the serpent tried his hardest not to read too much into it. There was a very good chance it was entirely coincidental that the avian sought out his gaze the moment their Diente explained the significance of Maeve’s dance and how her seduction had been the birth of their people. In all likelihood, Aziraphale had looked at him because Zane was reciting bits of their history - a topic the avian was more than interested in learning all he could about.

That didn’t stop the serpent from fantasizing, just a little bit.

When Zane’s story had come to an end, he stepped down from the dias, dismissing all the children to the market, where they would spend the rest of the evening enjoying music and treats and games while the adults remained in the synkal to enjoy the rest of the evening’s performance.

Irene and Galen rose from their seats and slowly made their way over to the dias. Crowley finally turned his attention away from Aziraphale and watched the mated pair take their positions. Ever the strong and silent type, Galen patiently waited for his princess to climb the makeshift stairs, helping her to remain balanced as she took care not to tread on her shimmering garnet dress. A dress that clung to every curve of her clearly pregnant body. The young prince or princess wasn’t due for several more months, but Irene was glowing all the same. Crowley’s chest vibrated with anticipation, excited to be swept away in the stories and dances he’d been learning all his life. Eager to be in the audience for once, so he could watch and observe.

All eyes in the room turned to the couple as they took their opening stances and waited for the music to begin. All eyes, except for Charis’.

He heard the movement before he saw it - the sound of a chair scraping harshly against the stone floor. Amber eyes flickered to the back of the stage where his former Naga was rising to her feet, pulling Danica along roughly behind her. Zane’s head whirled around at the sudden movement, garnet eyes searching for the source of the alarm.

All of these actions occurred just a moment too late.

Everything happened so quickly after that, it was impossible to tell what was going on. One second, Danica and Charis were standing upon the back of the stage, Zane seated at their side, and the next, both women were crumpling to the floor, unable to release even a single breath to cry out for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man! I am on a roll with this story! We may actually finish by this weekend. I wasn't totally sure where I wanted to end this chapter, but we were already at 3k words, and I had a feeling if I kept going, it would very quickly turn into a 6k chapter. 
> 
> Not to worry, though! About 50% of the next chapter is already written (like with the 'You go too fast for me Crowley' scene, this one has also been stuck in my mind for many months now, so it has been partially written already). I am hoping to have it up Friday night or Saturday, with the final chapter on Sunday or Monday. Depending on how that last chapter goes and how much I still need to tie up, I may also write an epilogue. We shall have to see.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me <3 your comments these last few chapters have been wonderful and I am excited to see what you think about the end of the story. THANK YOU so much for motivating me these past few days. I will see you all again really soon!


	19. Art: Seasons Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guuuyyyyssss <3 <3 <3 <3 I absolutely have to share this with you. The fabulously talented wargoddess9 (hikaruaino on instagram) sent me this wonderful drawing this morning of Crowley and Aziraphale dancing their seasons dance! I'm so emotional right now, I can't even. This was such a lovely surprise and I'm so touched that anything I write could inspire something so pretty and heartfelt. 
> 
> Go check out some of their other stuff! It's all wonderful. And thank you again, from the bottom of my heart <3 this means more to me than you could ever know. (https://www.instagram.com/hikaruaino/ and https://wargoddess9.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Finishing up the last scene for the next chapter right now. It should be up later this afternoon!!! We're so close to the finish line and I actually think I might cry.
> 
> If for some reason, the image doesn't show up for you (I've had that happen before and I can't seem to figure out why) here's a link to the original posting:  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/CGZ9a24FTYo/

_Something happened as they danced. They reached the halfway point and Crowley stepped away from him, spinning around several times, all the while keeping their hands linked until the very last second, representing the leaves clinging to the treetops with all their might, until the first frost blew in and forced them to the ground._

_Out of all the pieces of this dance, this section was the most challenging, because it involved Aziraphale, as the support member, to stay connected to Crowley as he moved around the stage. This was done first by gripping the serpent by his forearm, then his wrist and hand, until only their fingertips were touching._

_As his hand slowly slid down Crowley’s bare arm, Aziraphale allowed himself to gaze upon his partner. He allowed himself to feel the full joy around him as serpents watched on, allowed himself to appreciate every small movement of Crowley’s strong form. Every flex of every muscle. Every breath moving in and out of his lungs. Every glimmer of sunlight bouncing off his sweat-stained skin. He was a beautiful sight to behold and Aziraphale found he could not get enough._

_There was an energy between them he could not explain. A thrill of power that banished all his fears, his worries, his exhaustion. Aziraphale felt more alive than he ever had in his life. He felt like he could do anything. Wrestle a bear or fly to the moon. He felt as though he might explode into a thousand of tiny starlit pieces, his light shining bright for generations to come._

_In that moment, he felt complete like he never had before. He felt whole, when his whole life, even if he hadn't realized it until this very moment, he'd been broken._


	20. Chapter 20

Zane was there in an instant to catch his mate, lowering her softly to the ground as the rest of the audience bolted to their feet in the chaos that ensued. What was this? Were they under attack? He couldn’t see how, as everyone who stepped into the synkal that night had been checked by the palace guard. But what were the odds that both Charis and Danica had suffered a fainting spell at exactly the same time? What other explanation could there be?

Crowley pushed through the throngs of people in an attempt to get closer and see what had happened. Like a fish swimming upstream, he darted and wriggled and leapt forward when he could, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on the stage before him. One portion of the crowd fell away and the serpent was able to catch a glimpse of Danica’s body on the stage before it was once again obscured by more serpiente fighting to go the opposite direction. She was hanging limp in Zane’s arms, her chest heaving up and down with labored breaths.

Relief flooded Crowley’s body at the realization she wasn’t dead, but it was short-lived. His eyes drifted up and to the left as his right shoulder clipped a taller serpent’s arm as he barreled past on his way to the exit. The force of the collision sent the dancer stumbling a few steps, breaking his gaze for a moment while he struggled to regain his balance.

When Crowley looked up again, scanning the few people that remained for signs of one particular avian, he came up empty. 

Aziraphale was gone.

“Aziraphale!” he called out in a panic over the growing noise throughout the synkal. A pair of strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders and he struggled to get away, looking for his lost love. “Aziraphale!”

“Crowley!”

The sharp, familiar voice jolted him out of his momentary panic. Crowley looked up to see a man with long, platinum hair and bright emerald eyes gazing down at him. His jaw was clenched, shoulders tight, eyes the only thing to betray any of the fear and sorrow the dancer felt swirling around him, washing out from every angle. 

“Ailbhe,” the dancer breathed, stopping his struggle for a moment to plead with his friend. “You have to help me find him! He was here, right before it happened. I took my eyes off him for a _second_ and - “

“Crowley, I need you to calm down,” Ailbhe commanded, acting just as a soldier in a crisis should. He was calm, collected. Quickly taking stock of the situation and firmly telling people what they needed to do. “Aziraphale went with some of the palace guards after the assassin. He’s not here, alright?”

 _Assassin_. The word sent a chill down the serpent’s spine. How could this have happened? It didn’t make any sense. Why would someone choose such a public location for an assassination attempt? And why do it when one of their own could have gotten in the way? Any avian who had been behind such an attack would never have targeted Danica, and any serpiente would have steered far away from a poisoned blade or bolt, for fear of hitting Charis.

Which is obviously exactly what had happened. Now that the furthest reaches of the crowd had cleared, Crowley could clearly see the stage before them. Andreios had reached it finally, jumping up several feet into the air in a single bound to be by his queen’s side. Crowley couldn’t see much from this point, but he did notice the distinctive markings of an avian style bolt sticking out of Danica’s side.

The same kind of arrow which had nearly done him in.

This was really happening. Someone had tried, and may have just succeeded in killing not one of the royal family, but _two_. With one single shot. And they were still out there. They were in the palace, armed, with the intent to kill still fresh in their minds.

“No!” Crowley shouted, picking up the struggle to try and break away from the stronger man. “He _can’t._ They’ll kill him. He hasn’t got a way to defend himself!”

Tears streaked down Crowley’s eyes as he thought of Aziraphale - brave, selfless Aziraphale - racing down the winding serpiente halls in pursuit of the attacker. They could be hiding around any shadowed corner, shifted into their demi-form, waiting to strike. The avian had no weapon with him, had no time to grab one in the chaos. Aziraphale was one fanged strike away from losing his own life, just as Danica and Charis might any moment.

“Stop fighting me!” Ailbhe growled, squeezing down hard on either side of Crowley’s shoulders, enough to make him cry out in pain. “If you want to do something to help, come with me and help carry Lady Charis to safety. Otherwise, get _out of the way._ ”

Taking in a deep breath, Crowley attempted to steady himself. He wanted to run far away from here. Wanted to race out into that back hallway and leap in the way of anyone who might want to hurt the man he loved. Even with his broken form, a bite from one of his kind would not kill him. He would survive, and in doing so, would ensure both of them lived to see another day.

But Aziraphale was a trained soldier. Aziraphale had chosen to go after the assassin, to make sure they didn’t get away. And he hadn’t gone alone. Ailbhe said there were other palace guards that had joined in the pursuit. He had to trust them to keep Aziraphale safe.

For once in his life, Crowley tried his best to do what the avians did. He took a deep breath and stood up straight, wincing as Ailbhe finally let him go. Pushing away his fears, Crowley took a step forward and approached the stage, lifting himself up with shaky arms until he was kneeling by the royals’ sides.

There was so much blood. It was everywhere, pooling underneath Danica’s form where the edge of the arrow was still visible, rushing out across the fabric of her dress, staining the area on her torso a bright crimson. She was clinging to Zane’s arm, trembling, even as Andreios leaned down over her, slipping his arms underneath her form as he gently tried to move her to a more secure location.

Wordlessly, Crowley moved in beside him and leaned down to scoop Charis up off the floor, the faint sound of whispered words coming from the crow’s lips - too soft for him to comprehend. The older woman was already unconscious, her breathing shallow and labored. As the pair stood up together, the serpent glanced over her form for any sign the arrow had pierced her skin, not that spotting anything would do them any good now. The fact that Charis was unconscious meant she had been nicked by the arrow somehow. All it took was a single scratch for her life to be in danger.

Depending on the potency of the poison, Lady Charis might not make it through the next few minutes, let alone the night.

They spilled out into the hallway, flanked by Ailbhe and several other guards. Zane and Charis’ chambers weren’t far from here, and that was likely where they were headed. It was the safest place, easily blocked off from the rest of the palace to prevent any assassin from having a second chance to accomplish their goal. 

A few more steps and Andreios was breaking off, taking Danica down the hall to what had become her bedroom along with several guards to clear the area and keep them both safe. Ailbhe stayed close to his side, white scales spreading out across his skin in case they were to run into any resistance. Like the rest of the soldiers, he also had been given no time with which to secure his weapons. 

For a moment, Zane wavered, clearly torn as to which path to take. Crowley’s heart went out to his Diente. In the course of several seconds, he’d nearly lost both his mother and his mate, and had no guarantee, even now, that either one of them would make it out alive. 

“Go,” Crowley urged him, nodding down the hall to where Andreios was already pushing open the door. “She needs you.”

Garnet eyes brimming with tears blinked once in his direction, and then Zane was gone, rushing off to be by Danica’s side as Crowley and Ailbhe did what they could to try and save his mother’s life.

* * *

Aziraphale had failed.

After Xavier had died, he’d sworn to protect Danica at all costs. After she’d been poisoned, he’d blamed himself for not being there. Surely, if he’d been on duty, Aziraphale could have taken the blow instead of her. Surely, if he’d been there, he could have prevented her pain.

The first assassin had been caught and he’d thought his Tuuli Thea was safe. He’d let the excitement of the night overwhelm him, distract him from his duty, and now Danica’s life hung in the balance. He’d been right there, and had been unable to stop this new threat from taking her from him.

 _Why?_ Why was this happening? Was it his fault? Was he destined to lose everyone that he cared about? First his parents. Then his brother. His pair bond, and his prince - his best friend. Danica was all he had left, and she was slowly slipping away.

He’d been unable to keep her safe. Unable to catch her attacker and bring them to justice. They’d escaped into the darkened palace hallways and he and the other soldiers had been unable to find them. They’d done everything they could think of - closed the gates, filled the halls with every available soldier - and nothing had come of it. The assassin had simply vanished, and all Aziraphale was left with was an empty promise, a fractured heart, and an order from his commanding officer to remain in his room until he was called upon.

That had been hours ago and there had been no update. Charis and Danica both were fighting for their lives as Zane and the others tried to figure out who could have done this. It made no sense. An avian bolt that had buried its way that deeply into Danica had to have been fired by a serpiente bow. But weapons weren’t allowed in the synkal. Only a serpiente guard might have managed to smuggle one in, but none of them had any access to the avian’s poison. Even Adelina and Ailbhe, who had been the only two members of the serpiente guard to travel to the Hawk’s Keep, hadn’t been allowed anywhere near the dangerous concoction. 

So, what was this? Some kind of joint effort between a member of the serpiente guard and the Royal Flight? Impossible. No one from the Royal Flight would have done anything to put Danica’s life in danger like this. Aziraphale had to believe Zane’s guards felt the same way about him and his mother.

Thinking about it all made his head hurt. Aziraphale tried to shut his eyes and get some sleep, but every time darkness overtook him, he saw flashes of Danica’s limp body, blood spilling from her stomach as she struggled to maintain consciousness. He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain she must be enduring right now.

Why would someone want to do this? What were they hoping to accomplish? Did they really believe that driving the two kingdoms back into war was the best outcome? Was their hatred for the other side so great, they couldn’t see all the good that had already come from Zane and Danica’s peace?

Tears threatened to overtake him and Aziraphale pushed them away. He reached down deep into himself, dragging his avian reserve to the surface. Wanting to push down every sorrow, every fear that threatened to take him under. Aziraphale needed a moment of reprieve. He needed to stop thinking so much and find silence, if only so he could breathe, for just a moment.

A sharp knock came at the door mere moments before he successfully slipped the reserve into place. Aziraphale hesitated for a second, unsure what to do. It could be Andreios or one of the other guards with an update. He needed to get up off the edge of his bed and go answer, but the avian was suddenly overcome with a paralyzing fear. One that he could not ignore, no matter how hard he tried.

What if this was it? What if Danica hadn’t made it and he never got to see her again? Aziraphale wasn’t sure he was strong enough to face that reality. He would rather sit here, praying to gods he didn’t believe in than open that door to learn that his Tuuli Thea was gone from this world, forever.

“Aziraphale?”

The soft, familiar voice pierced through the avian’s remaining reserve and he crumpled forward, wrapping his arms around his stomach as he tried not to fall apart.

_Crowley._

Thank the gods Crowley was alright. There had been no reason to believe the assassin would target a random serpiente dancer, and yet Aziraphale couldn’t help the fear that had coursed through him when his duty had forced him to leave Crowley’s side. What if something had happened while he was gone? Apart from Danica, whose life still hung in the balance, Crowley was the only thing in this world that mattered to Aziraphale.

He couldn’t lose Crowley too. He just couldn’t.

“Aziraphale, please? Let me in. I need to see you.”

Sighing and quickly wiping the moisture from his eyes, the avian stood. Five steps and he’d reached the door, pulling it open with a soft _click._

The serpent was still dressed in his dancing attire, the navy blue of his trousers an almost inky black in the darkened hallway. Tiny glints of light could be seen reflected off the melos still draped around his shoulders, wrinkled in places where Crowley had obviously been clutching it in his panic.

A wave of guilt washed through Aziraphale as he ushered his companion inside. He should have gone to find his friend much earlier than this. He didn’t need to be able to sense emotion to know how Crowley was feeling. The pure emotion pouring from the serpent’s eyes in that moment was enough to tell him everything he needed to know, and much, much more. He was scared, overcome with grief and terrified of what their future might hold. They both were. 

“Have you heard anything?” Aziraphale asked, his voice breaking slightly with emotion as he returned to the bed, feeling it sag beneath his weight. Crowley took a few hesitant steps in, his eyes darting around the room before coming to fix themselves on Aziraphale’s face.

“Nothing,” he responded quietly, hovering awkwardly several paces away. Aziraphale wanted to invite him to sit down, but something held him back. There was a feeling, rising up in him - a panic, choking the breath from his lungs and making it difficult to say or do much of anything. How had this night gone so wrong? Hadn’t he just been dancing with this man standing before him, feeling like anything was possible? And now, here he was, reduced to less than nothing. All in the course of a few seconds.

That was all it took to turn his world upside down.

“I carried Lady Charis to her room,” Crowley admitted and Aziraphale looked up, shocked. His heart leapt inside his chest, not out of excitement or anticipation, but as a result of fear. He hadn’t known Crowley had lingered in the synkal after the attack. What would have happened to him if the assassin had come back to ensure they finished the job? Or if they hadn’t been working alone? He could have been hurt. Could have _died_. And Aziraphale wouldn’t have been able to stop it.

“The doctors don’t think she’s going to pull through.” A single tear slid down his cheek, but Aziraphale could tell he was holding back. What was on Crowley’s mind? What was so important that it couldn’t wait until morning? Had something else happened? He had to be here for a reason.

“And Danica?” He was barely able to get the words out. Once more, the air in his lungs vanished into nothing as fear took hold. Aziraphale needed to get Crowley out of here. He couldn’t deal with this - these feelings welling up inside of him. The fear and the sorrow mixing in with the joy of seeing Crowley here, and the longing he felt wanting to reach out and hold him. To make sure he was safe and _real_ _._ It was all too much.

“She’s faring better,” the serpent responded, “but only slightly. She lost a lot of blood and the doctors said the poison that was used was a fully concentrated dose.”

Aziraphale felt his heart crumbling inside of him. He was going to lose her. He was going to lose Danica, his Tuuli Thea and the last remaining link to everything he’d cared about. If she died, their peace would end and Aziraphale would be forced back into a war he could no longer support. How could he ever go back to killing the serpiente when he’d spent six months living side by side with them? Learning their culture, their history, their _names?_

Falling in love with one.

In that moment, the avian shut down. He had no other choice. Aziraphale’s heart was racing in his chest. He was trembling so hard, he thought he might just fall apart. He couldn’t think, couldn’t _breathe_ and he knew if he didn’t do something, it would be the end of him.

“No,” Crowley breathed, tears falling from his eyes as the avian pulled his reserve into place. It was a bit broken, cracked at the edges and in danger of crumbling altogether, but it brought him relief when he feared there would be none left.

“Aziraphale, _please._ ” The avian watched as Crowley fell to the floor, his knees hitting the cold, hard stone in a way that certainly must have hurt, though the serpent didn’t show it. He lifted his arms as if to reach out and take Aziraphale’s hands in his, then at the last moment, drew them back to his chest. “Please, don’t do this.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to reply, and found that the words would not come. Crowley’s face was contorted in anguish and the tears fell freely from his jewel-like eyes. He knew how much distancing himself might hurt the serpent, and that was the last thing Aziraphale wanted to do, but he couldn’t help himself. He had been through so much in his short life. So much pain, and anguish, but this night might very well be the worst. He couldn't face it - not right now while everything was so fresh, so unstable. Crowley had to understand that. And if he couldn't? Well, that wasn’t Aziraphale’s fault. There was nothing else he could do.

“Don’t hide from me, _please_ ,” the serpent cried, lowering his hands to clench at the fabric over his knees. “I know you’re hurting. I know you’re scared. Don’t hide that away, I - “ He looked up once more, the desperation clear in his eyes. 

“I can’t bear it.”

What was he supposed to do? Bear his heart and soul to the man kneeling in front of him? What good would that do them? Did Crowley expect their reality to just _disappear_ the moment they talked about it in the open? Danica’s life was still in danger. War was still on the horizon. Aziraphale could still lose _everything_ that mattered to him, including the serpent dancer he’d come to love more than he ever thought possible.

At his silence, Crowley lowered his head once more. He’d taken his hair down from the intricate braid he’d worn earlier in the evening. Curls tumbled down his back in a waterfall of tangled glory and despite shoving his every feeling down into the deepest crevices of himself, Aziraphale’s longing to reach out and touch him was still overwhelming.

“I can’t keep doing this,” the serpent murmured, to himself or to Aziraphale, the avian did not know.

“Doing what?” his traitorous voice asked, barely more than a whisper. Was this it then? Was Crowley finished with him? Did he also fear the worst? Was he preparing himself for the inevitable? Danica’s death would mean only one thing. The kingdoms would separate and the war would return and they would never see each other again.

Slowly, Crowley lifted his face once more and try as he might, Aziraphale could not help but to marvel at its beauty. Nothing had changed in the three years since the avian had first laid eyes on him. He was still the most beautiful creature Aziraphale had ever seen.

“I can’t keep pretending that you don’t mean _everything_ to me.”

A crack appeared in Aziraphale’s reserve as he took in an involuntary breath of air. Reflexively, his hands clenched at his sides, but he did not move them. He was frozen in place by the sorrowful amber gaze, not due to fear of what the serpent attached to those breathtaking orbs might do to him, but because of the feelings still raging inside of him, threatening to break free.

“Please, Aziraphale,” the serpent was begging now as he knelt on the cold stone floor, his face mere inches from the avian’s lap. Aziraphale could see Crowley’s desire to touch and to be touched in return. He could _feel_ how much Crowley wanted to take his hand and rest his head in Aziraphale’s lap - feel Aziraphale’s strong fingers running through his long red curls. A part of him yearned to reach out, to comfort the being that had become his closest friend, but he held himself back, waiting with bated breath to see what came next.

“Please,” tears pooled in those gorgeous eyes as Crowley stared up at him, white-knuckled fists clenched over his knees. Aziraphale felt tears of his own threatening to rise. Years and years of training allowed him to hold them back, to push them down like they were nothing more than a minor nuisance. Behind the closed doors of his heart, the avian felt like he might be dying, as Crowley poured out his very soul in the sacred space between them.

“I know I go too fast,” he admitted, moisture rolling down his cheeks. “I know my emotions can be too much for you sometimes, and that’s _alright._ I don’t need - I don’t want - “ He seemed to be struggling with what to say, but Aziraphale could not find the strength within himself to interrupt. He was rooted to the spot, blue eyes wide, heart beating more wildly in his chest than he had ever remembered it beating before. 

“I _love_ you, Aziraphale.” The admission came with a broken voice - soft and meek and oh, so terrified. “More than I ever thought possible. You could have _died_ tonight. I’d have never told you and - “ he broke off once more, emotion cutting off his voice, just as it had done to Aziraphale a few moments prior.

“Let me love you.” The words were like a whispered prayer and Aziraphale felt a sob catch in his throat. “We can go as slow as you like, _I promise_. But please - “ Crowley’s voice broke as more tears streamed down his pale cheeks. He hastily brought up a hand to wipe them away and Aziraphale felt himself finally cave. His hand reached out against his will, fingertips brushing up against the inside of Crowley’s wrist with a feather light touch.

The serpent looked up at him, amber eyes blown wide. Aziraphale could see the blacks of his pupils, a thin vertical line as the amber threatened to swallow them whole. He was afraid - _terrified_ Aziraphale would reject him. Terrified that Aziraphale would take the love that he had so freely given and shove it right back in his face.

_I could never love you. We are hereditary enemies. Our people aren’t meant to live together, let alone love each other. We are too different. You ask too much of me. You want something I could never give you. You deserve someone whose heart hasn’t already been broken. You deserve someone beautiful, like you. You deserve someone better than me._

_You go too fast for me, Crowley._

The excuses hovered on the tip of his tongue, but Aziraphale swallowed them down. He didn’t want excuses. Not anymore. But without them, he was as good as dead. Everyone he had ever loved in this world was gone. Danica Shardae, his Tuuli Thea, the remaining link to the happiness he once knew was hovering on a precipice, mere moments away from death. How could Aziraphale allow himself this thing he so desperately wanted when it could be so easily taken away from him?

As if he could see the hesitation in Aziraphale’s soft blue eyes, Crowley reached forward and clutched at the avian’s outstretched hand. “Aziraphale,” the sound of his name, spoken so sweetly in the silence of this most terrible of nights, sent fire coursing through Aziraphale’s veins. “Aziraphale, everything I have to give is _yours._ ” The pressure against his hand began to sting a little as Crowley squeezed it tightly within his own, bringing the skin of the avian’s fingers up to his lips as he pressed a soft kiss against the battle hardened knuckles. “Please, _take_ it from me. Let me love you.” Another kiss. Soft and sweet and filled with longing.

“You don’t have to love me back,” Crowley’s voice was a whisper now, “but _please_ , let me love you. I can’t hide it anymore." His throat bobbed up and down with emotion as he breathed deep, expanding his bare chest between the melos still hanging above. "It hurts too much.”

Aziraphale’s heart crumbled inside him. He wanted to do something to ease this man’s pain. Aziraphale wanted to gather Crowley into his arms and never let him go. He wanted to press his lips against Crowley’s as they had in the synkal. He wanted to whisper words of reassurance into the serpent’s ears and feel the warmth of Crowley’s body against his own. He wanted to _love_ Crowley, with his entire heart. As battered and as broken as it might be. 

But he couldn’t. If Aziraphale gave in, if he chose to return Crowley’s love, that would be the end for them both. He would simply be giving the universe another soul to target, another being to rip away from him, never to be seen again. If Aziraphale chose to love Crowley, the serpent would inevitably die and it would be all his fault.

“You don’t want that,” Aziraphale breathed, blue eyes shining in the darkness. 

“I _do_ ,” Crowley protested, sliding to his feet as he moved to sit beside Aziraphale on the bed, their knees brushing up against each other through the fabric of their pants. A spark of energy shot up his leg and it took all of Aziraphale's self-control not to cave right then and there. “There’s nothing else in this world that I want.”

Once again, Aziraphale shook his head. He was already breaking, what was the point in hiding it anymore? This was the end for him. He was losing everything he had left in his life and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

Might as well put all his cards on the table.

Trembling hands shifted as the avian moved to grab Crowley’s hands in his own. Aziraphale took in a shaky breath, tearing down the wall where he’d hid his feelings away. He allowed them to rush forward like a tidal wave after a storm, stealing the air from his lungs and threatening to drown him where he sat.

“Everyone I’ve ever loved has died.”

The words echoed in the space around them. He felt Crowley’s hand tighten around his, silently offering support as Aziraphale continued with his story.

“You already know about my parents, how young I was when they passed away. It was just me and my brother after that. He died in combat when I was sixteen. The only real family I had.”

The sorrow from those deaths were deep, but the pain didn’t cut so sharply anymore. Time had all but healed those wounds, and though Aziraphale missed his family, he hadn’t cried over them in many years.

“All I ever wanted was to become a member of the Royal Flight,” he admitted softly, unable to look Crowley in the eyes, for fear of what he might find there. How was it that this man did not hate him? How many of Crowley’s friends and family had Aziraphale killed in the throngs of war? “I wanted to protect my Tuuli Thea and her family. But I failed. Xavier Shardae was _my_ responsibility, and I let him down. I wasn’t there when he needed me most, and he paid the ultimate price for it.”

Crowley squeezed down on his hand tightly. “You can’t blame yourself for that,” the serpent urged, as if the words alone could change Aziraphale’s mind. “You are only one person. It is unfair to expect yourself to be everywhere.”

Aziraphale shook his head, tears rushing to his eyes and his companion fell silent. “When I was seventeen,” he began, knowing full well that Crowley could feel the increase in his heartbeat as he thought of that night, three years ago. “My pair bond was shot by a serpiente archer. She was dead before she hit the ground.”

Silence once again filled the space between them and Aziraphale forced himself to look up at his friend. He expected to see a flash of anger or jealousy. Shock that Aziraphale had not once thought to mention Claire to him before, but all he saw was a deep sorrow and overwhelming compassion.

“I was distraught,” he admitted, remembering how it had felt to stand in front of that funeral pyre for hours, forcing himself to hold back the weight of his sorrow - his tears. “As her Alistair, it was my job to protect her, and I failed at that too. We were going to start a family together, a _life_ together. We were supposed to grow old together, and she was taken from me. She was just...gone.”

Claire wasn't a fighter,” he explained, remembering her soft brown eyes and gentle smile. “She was kind, and gentle, and _good._ " _Like you_ , he added as an afterthought in the safety of his own mind. "An innocent. She was never supposed to get mixed up in any of this. She shouldn’t have died, but I suppose war doesn’t care who she takes, so long as lives are being shed.” Another breath, to gather his thoughts and find his courage. Aziraphale was going to finish this story if it killed him. “They said she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. That she was ‘flying free’ and that her sorrow was over. Everything that was supposed to be said.”

“It didn’t change the fact that she was gone, and I was alone again.”

Aziraphale remembered what that night had felt like. He remembered the overwhelming need to get away. To find someplace where he could cry and scream until he had no voice left to give. A choice that would change his life forever.

“I hadn’t realized I’d flown so far until it was too late,” he admitted, feeling Crowley shift on the bed beside him. Had he figured out where this tale was headed? Or was he still patiently waiting for Aziraphale to explain what exactly was going on inside his head.

“And before I could turn around to head back home, I heard someone in pain.” He raised his eyes once more, heart in his throat as the words seemed to tumble out of him. There was no more room for secrets between them. Not anymore. Not when the circumstances allowing them to be together could shatter at any moment. Not when Crowley could be ripped out of his life without even a chance to say goodbye. 

“I couldn’t just _leave_.” Hot tears spilled across his cheeks as he felt an overwhelming surge of love for this man seated beside him. Could Crowley feel it? Did he understand? Did he know what Aziraphale had done all those years ago? “Not when I saw what had happened. Not when another innocent had been shot down without reason.”

There it was. The very hint that the serpent was starting to comprehend the words being spoken. A glimmer of uncertainty appeared in his bright eyes. Aziraphale could feel the breath still in his lungs as his hand tightened reflexively within the avian’s own. 

“You were so young,” Aziraphale confessed, a soft smile breaking out across his face, through the tears. “And so beautiful. I knew you were dying, and there was nothing I could do to save you. But I couldn’t just _leave_ you.”

“ _It’s you_ ,” Crowley breathed, barely moving a muscle, as if any motion on his part would shatter this moment that was unfolding between them. Aziraphale nodded his head in confirmation, a wave of relief washing through him as he revealed his deepest secret to the other man. He knew Crowley remembered parts of that night. The lullaby Aziraphale had sung, and the long recovery that he had been forced to endure upon returning home.

A fresh wave of tears rolled down Crowley’s cheeks as his face crumpled in agony. Aziraphale’s heart went out, wanting so desperately to wrap his arms around the serpent until he had no more tears left to cry. He wanted to be strong when Crowley was weak. Wanted to be his shelter in the storm. Wanted to keep him safe from everything in this world that might cause him harm.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.” He was rambling now, Aziraphale knew, but he didn’t know what else to do. Crowley was just looking at him, quietly sobbing into his fist as one hand still remained tightly wound around Azirphale’s. Was he upset with Aziraphale for keeping this secret? Wishing the man who had sung to him had turned out to be someone different? “I didn’t realize you even remembered that night until I heard you playing in the synkal. And then things became so complicated between us and I _know_ that’s my fault. That I pushed you away, and I didn’t mean - I didn’t know - “

He broke off again, struggling to find the words that would get Crowley to talk to him again. At the beginning of this, he’d only wanted to be honest with his friend, just as the serpent had been honest with him. Now, he desperately needed some kind of validation that he hadn't just lost everything.

“I’m sorry - “ his voice broke again and Aziraphale went to turn his head away, only to have Crowley suddenly lean forward, tearstained hand lifting to the side of his face to stop him. Blue eyes widened as they were guided back to the serpent’s face, which was still shimmering with tears, and the barest hints of a smile.

“Do you have any idea,” Crowley croaked, in barely more than a whisper as he stroked his thumb gently over the curved skin of Aziraphale’s cheek, “how long I’ve dreamed of finding you? My _angel_.”

And then their lips were crashing together, like two stars colliding after millennia of orbiting around each other. Energy rushed through him like a wildfire and Aziraphale released Crowley’s hand, only to wrap his free arm around the slimmer man as his other hand lifted up to caress the curls at the nape of his neck. The serpent moaned, placing one hand flat against Aziraphale’s cheek as the other found a place to rest just above his hip bone. Heat seared through him every place he felt Crowley's skin against his own and Aziraphale found himself wanting - _needing_ \- more. How else was he to know this was real? How else could he be sure of the man's true feelings?

“ _Angel,”_ Crowley broke away from the kiss as his lips traveled upward across the trail of moisture that sorrow and fear left behind. “Angel, angel, angel.” The words were spoken like a whispered prayer and only after a few moments did Aziraphale realize he was answering with his own cadence. Confessions of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you’ echoing around them, covering them both as he had with his wings earlier that very same day.

“I wanted it to be you for so long,” Crowley confessed as Aziraphale leaned in for another kiss, marveling at how soft the serpent’s lips were. Warmth seemed to spread throughout his entire body from that small touch, starting from the skin of his lips and ending in a pool of heat at the base of his stomach. The intensity of his desire - the avian had never felt anything like it before. His body trembled as he tried to force his focus away from the gentle touch of fingertips creeping up underneath the fabric of his tunic, dancing over the very lower end of his ribcage. It was time to listen to his beloved speak. “I convinced myself it couldn’t be you over and over again.” Another kiss, initiated by Crowley this time as he squeezed tightly on Aziraphale’s hips causing a very ungentlemanly moan to escape his own lips. He wanted _more._ All of it. Everything Crowley had to offer.

“Eventually, I believed it,” he admitted as Aziraphale’s hand shifted from the back of his neck to the curve of his jaw, thumb sliding along his left cheekbone as he marveled at those eyes that had somehow grown even brighter in the dead of night. “And then, I realized I didn’t care anymore.”

_I don’t need an angel, I just want you._

The words Crowley had spoken in the synkal took on a whole new meaning in that moment. Love washed over Aziraphale and by the expression of pure joy on Crowley’s face, he knew the serpent could feel it too.

Somehow, in the midst of their confessions, Crowley had shifted close enough to Aziraphale that he was now seated on the avian’s lap, legs resting on either side of him - something Aziraphale was not necessarily against. As he pulled the serpent’s face closer for another kiss, Crowley seemed to realize what had happened and he recoiled, scrambling back to put some space between them once more.

“I’m sorry - “ he stuttered, trying to wrench his hand away - the last thing physically linking them together, and Aziraphale panicked. He clamped down on the appendage hard, weaving their fingers together in a way he hoped might convey how he needed Crowley to stay. How he might just fall to pieces without him there.

Just to be sure the message got across, the avian opened his mouth to vocalize those very thoughts.

“Please.” Now it was his turn to beg for his heart’s greatest desire. “Don’t go.”

Crowley’s eyes widened, and he hesitantly shifted an inch closer. “You don’t - I’m not...going too fast?”

A smile spread out on the avian’s face as he opened his arms to welcome Crowley closer, heart exploding with a fondness like no other when the dancer pressed his face into Aziraphale’s neck, placing a tentative kiss there. Testing the waters with the tips of his toes before diving in.

“My dearest, my love,” Aziraphale breathed, tightening his grip around Crowley’s shoulders as the serpent’s arm snaked across his waist to hold him close. “I would have you by my side always.”

Slowly, he leaned back until he could see his beloved’s face once more. Yes, the fear was still billowing inside him, like the curl of black smoke after a fire, but there was something else there. A light burning bright inside his chest. A hope that things might still turn out alright, and the knowledge that even if they didn’t, his life wasn’t over. Not yet. 

_Have we all not lived enough of our lives in fear? Wouldn’t you say it is about time to let love take a chance?_

“Stay with me?”

Crowley beamed. The first true, genuine smile he’d seen from the man since they’d danced in the marketplace. It was so bright, so beautiful, that the avian couldn’t help himself, leaning forward to capture those lips in another gentle kiss.

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know there may or may not have been a lot of feelings in this chapter. And I blame that entirely on the fact that "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" popped on my playlist and I subsequently listened to it on repeat for two more hours. I have no regrets.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Their final confession scene is something that has been on my heart for a long time. It amazes me that no matter how many GOmens fics I write, their relationship always seems to develop differently, and I truly love working with these versions of the characters so much. They have so much passion and I know I've only just scratched the surface of that in this story.
> 
> At the beginning, I struggled with the overall rating with this fic. I'm not the best judge for what is considered appropriate for a teenager (especially on the lower end), so I opted to go for Mature instead, not knowing how the blood/violence/emotion/passion would end up going in this specific chapter. If you all think this fic is probably better suited as T instead of M, I apologize. My philosophy is always "better safe than sorry".
> 
> That being said - I have a question for you all, should you choose to answer it. I have plans for a sequel to this fic, following many of the events of Snakecharm - introducing the Falcons and their lore, watching Danica and Zane's family grow, and maybe even introducing a little one for Crowley and Aziraphale to care for. My main question is: what is everyone's opinion on smut/sexual stuff in fics? These two will not be getting up to anything in this story, specifically because Aziraphale was raised as a gentleman and he would never do anything of that nature with anyone he has not chosen as a mate. If you hadn't guessed, this will obviously not be a problem in fic #2, so would you be interested in seeing an intimate scene (or two) between them? I'm leaning toward wanting to write one, because I think it fits well in with the storyline and their development as characters, but I know this fic wasn't marketed as something with those elements, so I figured I'd check and see if anyone had any opinions on the matter!
> 
> Ok! Now that that's over, we've got one more chapter left (with a potential epilogue depending on how the chapter goes. There are a few loose ends to tie up, after all). My best guess is the chapter will be up by Sunday, but if my inspiration keeps flowing like this, you may get it tomorrow.
> 
> See you all again real soon!!!


	21. Chapter 21

Crowley remained by Aziraphale’s side for nearly a week, only parting when the dove was called in by Andreios to guard the doors to Danica’s bedside. The coin had been flipped - fate had rolled her dice and only one of the two women made it through to the other side. Their kingdom had been spared the loss of a reigning monarch for the time being, but after clinging to life for nearly twelve hours, Lady Charis had finally left this world to join her Diente once more, in the world beyond.

The first time Aziraphale was sent for, Crowley returned to she’Mehay, not to dance or even to sleep, but to retrieve some of his things and to change into the traditional deep violet clothes of serpiente mourning. It seemed improper, not to dress in remembrance of Lady Charis, even if he was not moving about the place enough for anyone to notice what he was wearing. The events of the previous week had shaken Crowley to his core, and he couldn't help but fear if he strayed too far, something else would go terribly, terribly wrong. 

“Do you know of a place I could find something to wear?” Aziraphale had asked him as they’d lay in bed together that night. Crowley still marveled at the fact that the avian seemed to want him around, where only weeks ago, a single kiss had been too much for him. They kissed often now, whenever they were alone. Part of him still feared things were going too fast, always waiting for the moment Aziraphale might pull away from him, but he never did. He was always there. Steadfast and true. Unwavering in the chaos that their world had become.

“It seems almost disrespectful to her memory,” he explained as he lay another kiss against Crowley’s neck. The serpent gave a soft moan, biting his lip to try and mask the noise. The want inside of him was unlike anything he’d ever known, but he had no idea where Aziraphale’s line was. What if he did something to inadvertently cross it? What if Aziraphale realized that...whatever this was between them wasn’t something he wanted?

“You can borrow one of mine,” the serpent whispered, weaving his fingers together with Aziraphale’s as he lay soft kisses on the exposed skin of his arm. “It may be a bit snug, but I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

Fire burned in his cheeks as he forced himself to keep his eyes fixed on the wall opposite him. What was he thinking, saying a thing like that? Why was it so easy for him to forget Aziraphale was _avian._ A proper gentleman. The fact that they shared a bed simply so they didn’t have to sleep alone these past few nights was only due to the dire circumstances they’d found themselves in. He was convinced that once Danica regained her strength, it would be back to the dancer’s nest for him.

“You _wiley_ serpent,” the avian growled in his ear and it took all of Crowley’s self-control not to flip over, climb atop him and kiss him senseless. Who was this man?

It was on one such occasion, just as the first rays of morning light had broken over the horizon, that the couple’s quality time was interrupted by a knock on the door. Crowley started, bolting upright in the bed as his heart threatened to climb out of his chest and jump out the window.

“Shhhh, love,” Aziraphale reached forward to pull him back down into the bed, placing a gentle kiss on his temple. “It’s alright. Probably just Andreios.” He closed his eyes and sighed, cherishing the soft, warm feeling of the avian’s fingertips brushing up against his cheek as Aziraphale leaned in for a slow, sensual kiss. How had he gotten this lucky? How could it be that this marvelous creature really loved him? And not only that, but that the man that he loved was also the angel who had saved him.

“I will be right back.”

Aziraphale climbed out of bed, readjusting his tunic to cover the part of his skin that had become exposed as the two had snuggled up together. It was a foreign concept to Crowley, the thought of sleeping with a shirt on. He’d offered to do so the very first night he’d stayed with Aziraphale, but the avian had declined, choosing instead to pull him close and run a strong hand down his exposed back in a way that made Crowley tremble with the emotions swirling inside of him.

He couldn’t get enough. No matter how many times Aziraphale kissed him or interlocked their fingers together or drew him close, Crowley always wanted more. He bit back those desires, choosing to hold his tongue rather than lose the very thing in his life that mattered most. He still did not understand what had happened between that night in the synkal and now to change the avian’s mind. Part of him was certain that if he asked, this illusion would break and Aziraphale would push him away for good.

It was not, in fact, Andreios at the door. From his place curled up in Aziraphale’s bed, clinging to the warmth the avian had left behind, Crowley could hear a female’s voice. One of the avian guards, he thought, though he could not remember her name.

“Andreios has requested your presence in the main hall,” she announced as Aziraphale stood in the doorway, his blonde curls tousled a bit in the back where he’d been resting his head just moments before. A fond smile crept across his lips as he took a moment to admire the view.

 _Gods,_ Aziraphale was handsome. He was strong, not just in character, but physically as well. His arms and shoulders were well-defined from years of training with the sword, yet there was a gentleness to him - a softness. It was subtle, in the curve of his hips and the shape of his legs. Something that had been tempting Crowley from the start, and something he tried desperately not to think about whenever they kissed and when Aziraphale pulled him close at night.

_You go too fast for me, Crowley._

He couldn’t bear to hear those words again. So, he tried his best to be respectful, from an avian’s perspective. He kept thoughts of those nature just under the surface, refusing to act on them. Refusing to even consider them as real thoughts, lest he lose the one thing he’d been searching for so long.

“He said it was urgent.”

Aziraphale nodded, a certain hardness coming over his features. Crowley shifted almost imperceptibly in the bed, lifting his head to get a better view as his angel nodded his head once, then shut the door quickly behind him.

“Who was that?” Crowley murmured softly, feeling his heartbeat begin to increase as the waves of anxiety rolled off Aziraphale’s form.

“Erica Silvermead,” the avian responded, reaching for the belt and sword he’d discarded less than an hour ago. It was just after dawn, and Aziraphale had only just returned from his shift. Normally, Crowley was a ‘rise with the sun’, ‘set with the sun’ sort of person, but he’d adapted quickly to Aziraphale’s sleep schedule, if only so he had an excuse to remain here instead of having to return to sha’Mehay.

“One of the Royal Flight?” he asked, perching himself up on his elbow to get a better look at what was going on. The sudden change in Aziraphale’s demeanor unnerved him. Erica hadn’t said much, but there must have been something else to the conversation that Crowley had missed. Some look she’d given the avian, or some unspoken message that had gotten him riled up like this.

“I’ll just stay here then?” He hadn’t meant it to sound so pathetic, but Aziraphale paused on his way to the door, all the same. An intense pang of longing shot through the room, followed quickly by confusion and indecisiveness. 

That moment passed and a soft smile replaced the look of anxiety on his angel’s face. “Put some clothes on, why don’t you?” the avian teased and Crowley blushed, despite the way his heart leapt for joy at the suggestion. Aziraphale wanted Crowley to come with him. Surely that meant things weren’t all that bad.

He dressed quickly, slipping on a plain emerald tunic and his favorite set of matching boots and ink-black pants. Together, they walked side by side down the empty hallways, criss-crossing through the corridors until they emptied out into a wide hall near the front of the palace. A set of wooden double doors stood off to the side where Crowley could easily identify not only Andreios, but Zane and Danica as well.

This couldn’t be good. What sort of news would have pulled both his Diente and Naga from their rooms this early in the morning? Especially when Danica was still healing.

It was obvious to Crowley that he did not belong here. So obvious, in fact, that he paused just as they approached, amber eyes searching the space for something - _anything_ that he could claim to be doing instead of interfering with important matters that were rightfully none of his business. 

“Ah, good.” Zane’s voice echoed across the space between them and Crowley turned to look at his Diente. The older man smiled, garnet gaze locking on his face as he waved the pair over. “I was hoping Erica might run into you both.”

What in the world was going on? Crowley could feel the anxiety in the space around them from all who were present except Andreios, who had his reserve firmly in place. He wanted to ask, but was afraid of what the answer might be. The leader of the Royal Flight had always been the serious type, but though Crowley could not sense his emotions to be sure, it would be difficult to imagine the crow feeling anything but anger and disgust. But why?

“We’ve found our assassins,” Andreios admitted and Crowley felt a chill run down his spine. His instinct was to reach out and take Aziraphale’s hand for comfort, but the avian was in full soldier-mode. He was a member of the Royal Flight, here to protect his queen and see that the proper punishment was served for the treasonous actions that had taken place the week prior. He did not need Crowley here, distracting him from his duty. “Ailbhe is in there holding them. Erica too.”

A chill went down Crowley’s spine as the crow’s words finally sunk in. His mind fixated on the exact phrasing of that statement, particularly on the choice of the word ‘assassins’. With an ‘s’. Plural.

There had been more than one of them. 

Andreios shook his head with a grimace, turning to face Zane, of all people. “One of them is the guard who shot Charis and Danica…” he trailed off, a flash of pain entering his eyes, although he kept the sensation of the emotion itself close to his chest. “Zane, it’s Adelina.”

 _No._ That wasn’t possible. There had to be some kind of mistake. Crowley _knew_ Adelina. She was his friend. While she may not harbor warm feelings for Danica, she would _never_ have put Charis’ life in danger - the woman who had given her and Ailbhe a chance when all other rulers before had rejected the white vipers and their kind. Adelina owed Charis her life. To even consider that she might have lifted a finger to end the former queen’s life - it was unthinkable.

Crowley was still in shock as the doors opened and the four of them were escorted inside. His eyes immediately fell on the two individuals in the center of the room, hands bound tightly behind their backs as two figures stood before them, watching with careful eyes.

“She wasn’t supposed to hurt you!” the man Crowley didn’t recognize started the instant his deep brown eyes fell on Danica’s form. Beside him, Adelina snarled, lifting a leg to kick him pointedly in the shin.

“Shut up,” she growled. “They don’t care.” Her eyes lifted from the other man’s form, flickering first to Zane and Danica as they took their place at the head of the room, then to Crowely as he stepped in behind Aziraphale. For a moment, the emerald orbs widened. He could feel her shock, her guilt, as she registered his presence and the woman quickly averted her gaze as Andreios crossed the threshold and shut the door behind him. 

The avian assassin, for he was most certainly avian, turned to the leader of the Royal Flight this time, hoping to find better favor. “I was trying to protect my Tuuli Thea. I knew they couldn’t be trusted - “

Once again, Adelina cut him off. Her anger and her pain was overwhelming. “You are guilty of treason. No one cares why.”

“I care.” Zane’s voice was soft and pained and it swept over the room like darkness in the moment the final source of light was extinguished. All eyes in the room turned toward him, observing his shock, his betrayal, his rage. “I care why you killed my mother, and tried to kill my mate.”

Whether subconsciously, to reassure himself that she was ok, or to prove a point to Adelina, Zane reached out slowly and wrapped his arm around Danica’s waist, pulling her closer to him. Crowley felt a sharp jolt of pain as the blonde woman looked on, unable to do anything now to change the fate she had brought upon herself.

“It wasn’t supposed to be poisoned,” she snarled, eyes turning to her partner, settling into her rage and frustration. Crowley could still feel the smallest hints of pain and regret drifting outward from her, but they were growing fainter and fainter by the second. “He gave me the bolt - an avian bolt so they would be blamed.” Her eyes shifted to Danica and everyone in the room tensed. 

“The poison was supposed to be weak. Just enough to look like someone was trying to harm Charis - without actually doing it.”

“And _you_ ,” the avian man bit back with equal disgust and anger, “weren’t supposed to hit my Tuuli Thea!” He was yelling now, trying to be heard over Adelina’s protests. “You almost killed her - “

“I was trying to!” She shouted back. “It was only a mistake that I didn’t!”

Crowley couldn’t believe this. It wasn’t some misunderstanding. Adelina had actually gone along with this plan. Not only that, but she had helped _formulate_ it. She had knowingly and willingly tried to kill her own Naga. An act that would have undoubtedly restarted the war with the avian kingdom. Why? He understood her pain at seeing Danica with the man she loved. He had known a fraction of that pain, himself, when Aziraphale had rejected him. But to kill Zane’s mate over such feelings? That he could never understand.

“I saw my Diente,” the woman’s voice was softer now, her head bowed, unable to look any of them in the eyes. “The man I loved, honoring _his_ vows no matter how cold and miserable they left him - “

“Would someone just kill her and get it over with?” the avian interjected, his voice much too calm for someone who had also been charged with treason.

“I should have skinned you when I first found you in the palace,” she retorted, turning on him once more. “You were stupid enough to slice open your own Naga. I should have known you were too stupid - “

“I was stupid enough to think a snake might keep her word!” The emotions in the room were escalating quickly, making Crowley’s stomach turn. This was all too much for him to take. Absent-mindedly, he reached out for some form of support, but stopped just short of taking Aziraphale’s hand. Who was he, to ask for such a thing? They weren’t even...anything, as far as Zane and Danica were concerned. And surely Andreios would look down upon one of his soldiers caring for someone like Crowley, especially when doing so might take away from his duty as a member of the Royal Flight. 

“You lied to your own king. Why did I think you wouldn’t lie to me?”

“ _Enough!_ ” Both quieted at the abrupt sound of Zane’s voice, rising to cover them both. Crowley gritted his teeth as the anger flowed through him. He looked around, marveling at how resolute Aziraphale and the other avians stood, before remembering that they couldn’t feel what he could. Only Adelina and Ailbhe had any idea the true nature of their king’s emotions in that moment, and they were both trained soldiers. Able to remain strong no matter the circumstances.

Poor Ailbhe. What must he be feeling right now? To see his own sister in this position? To have to watch her fate be sealed. There would be no forgiveness for such an act. Serpiente law was absolute. Adelina had known what treason meant, and she’d chosen this path anyway.

“Karl, you were the one who cut Danica?”

 _Karl_. The name sounded familiar. Where had he heard it before?

“Trying to kill you, sir.”

Danica turned away in that moment, burying her face into Zane’s shoulder as he held her close in comfort, his anger quickly dying to be replaced with sorrow and a spark of fear. It was in that moment that Crowley finally put the pieces together. He _did_ recognize Karl, as one of the members of the Royal Flight. The very same one who had escorted Adelina and Ailbhe to Andreios’ chambers the night they’d last arrived at the Hawk’s Keep.

It all made sense now. Adelina, enraged by what she had seen, had chosen to act. Adelina, who hated Danica for stealing away her prince, whose mistrust for the avian race ran so deep underneath her skin. She had seen an opportunity to right what she believed to have been wrong. And her plan would have worked, too, had Charis not noticed her waiting in the wings, bow drawn and aimed at Danica. Charis had reacted instinctively, pulling her son’s mate out of the way as best she could, and in doing so, she had paid the ultimate price.

_Adelina won’t listen to me. I have never known another soul to harbor as much hatred toward me as an individual, and I do not fault her for those feelings._

_Will you talk to her? For me? Try to get her to understand? I plan on seeing this arrangement to the end...the last thing I want is for her to spend the rest of her life consumed with anger and hate._

The words echoed in Crowley’s mind as he remembered that conversation in the Hawk’s Keep. Danica had known of Adelina’s hatred of her then and asked him to intervene. And he had tried the best he knew how, but she had rebuffed him, over and over again. He’d chalked the whole thing up to a broken heart and had chosen to give her some space, and all the while, she’d been planning this.

Was all of this his fault? Crowley paled at the thought. Was Lady Charis dead because he hadn’t spoken up? Because he had chosen to dwell on his own problems instead of confronting Adelina about hers?

Zane, feeling his sudden burst of pain, glanced up at him for just a moment, before fixing his attention back on the assassins. 

“You lied to me about Karl,” he pointed out as he faced Adelina once more.

“Yes...sir,” Adelina trailed off, finally out of words she could say in her defense.

“You tried to kill my mate, in the synkal, and in the process killed my mother.” His words were not a question, and the sound of them sent a shiver down Crowley’s spine. There was a reason Zane was Diente, and not just because he’d become next in line once his older brother Anjay had died. He had a way about him. He was charming and charismatic most of the time, but could turn it completely on its end when an authoritative presence was required. 

This was one of those times.

“The poison wasn’t supposed to be - “

“Yes, or no? Adelina.”

Crowley still couldn’t believe this. He felt an overwhelming ache in his heart as he realized what was happening here. As Adelina lifted her gaze and confessed to the crime, explaining that she understood the justice in her sentence and had only come forward to ensure Karl, too, received the punishment he deserved, Zane passed his final judgement.

Adelina and Karl were to be executed. There was no room for forgiveness in such a crime as this.

“Andreios,” he asked as the conversation came to a close, a cold chill falling across the entire room. “Can you and Erika see to it that these two are kept under control until they can be dealt with?

Something shifted in that moment, surprising Crowley. Zane could have very easily called for any number of his guard, but he had passed this important task onto two members of the Royal Flight instead. Sensing the importance of this moment, Andreios nodded his head without a word, turning to look in silent disgust at the man he’d once called his own, and the serpent who had helped him try and destroy everything Zane and Danica had worked so hard for.

“Good,” Zane responded, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath, his jaw quavering with emotion that he could no longer hold back. “Ailbhe, you may be dismissed. You no longer need to be involved in this.”

A gentle mercy, but one that the male viper did not seem to want. “Thank you, sir,” he responded, acknowledging Zane’s offer. “But I’ll stay. If I can’t do my duty now, I have no place in your guard.”

Zane returned the sentiment with his own nod of approval, but Crowley could tell that he was more than a bit uncertain. The red-haired serpent watched as Andreios, Erika, and Ailbhe lead the bound prisoners away and after a moment to collect himself, he turned to follow. Only to stop when he realized that Aziraphale had not left his post. He was still standing against the back wall, his full attention focused on Zane and Danica, who very obviously had no awareness that either one of them were in the room.

Crowley watched in silence as strong, self-assured, authoritative Zane slunk back against the wall behind him, drawing Danica close to his chest as he ran his fingers through her blonde curls. 

“I should have known,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Gods...I trusted her with your life. You could have been _killed._ ”

At the first sign of the pair sharing an intimate moment, Crowley looked away. He tried to grab Aziraphale’s attention as silently as possible, willing the avian to look at him so they could sneak out unnoticed, but Aziraphale was stubborn. Although the serpent could feel a hint of embarrassment wafting over from the dove, he did not move from his post.

What was he doing? Was it his job to look over the royal couple since Andreios had stepped out of the room. Surely he could grant them a bit of privacy after the ordeal they both had just been through. How heartbreaking must it be to find out two of the people you trusted the most were the ones behind so much pain and destruction? And hadn’t Aziraphale just gotten finished with his overnight shift? Shouldn’t they find someone else to take his place so he could go and rest?

“Danica…” Zane’s voice drifted forward once more and the sincerity and softness in it caused Crowley to look up in surprise. He’d never heard his Diente sound like this before. With anyone. “I think...I love you.”

And he did. Crowley could feel it with every fibre of his being. He thought back to that day in the library and the conversation he’d had with Danica then. Something had changed in those few weeks. It was so clear now, the obvious affection and love the couple had for each other. 

This arrangement may have started out with the sole goal of securing peace between their warring nations, but through the toils and strife, Danica and Zane had found an unexpected friendship that had blossomed into something more. For the first time since he saw the avian woman take her place on the stage next to his Diente in the synkal, Crowley actually believed that peace between their two races might be within their reach. Yes, they still had a long road ahead of them, but unlike before, this time, they had love on their side.

“I know,” his mate responded, a soft smile echoing in her golden eyes as she gazed up at him. “I love you too.”

It was at that moment that Aziraphale chose to clear his throat. It was a soft, gentle sound, but the attention it brought still caused Crowley’s cheeks to flare with heat as Zane and Danica turned around, surprised to find they still had an audience.

“So sorry to intrude, Shardae,” Aziraphale began, a quiet, but fierce determination in his voice. What was going on? What could he possibly have to say to these two that couldn’t wait until the next time they were together? It wasn’t like the avian didn’t see them every day.

“I was hoping I might have a word?”

Danica and Zane straightened themselves and took a few steps forward to close the distance between themselves and the avian guard. Crowley, on the other hand, held back, not entirely sure if he should even still be here, or if everyone had forgotten about his presence entirely.

“Is everything alright, Aziraphale?” Danica asked with obvious concern in her voice. Sometimes Crowley forgot just how close the two were. Aziraphale had said once that Xavier Shardae had been his closest friend, even before he’d been assigned as a personal guard. It only made sense that Aziraphale would be close to the prince’s sister as well.

“Quite,” he responded, a nervous energy to his voice that Crowley could not decipher. “Better than alright, actually. I wished to speak to you about my pair bond, if you have a moment.”

Pair bond? Crowley frowned, confusion clouding over his face. Why would Aziraphale need to talk to his queen about his pair bond? Hadn’t she died several years ago? He’d mourned for her and moved on. What more could there be to say?

Apparently, Danica understood, because her face broke out in an anxious smile. She stayed silent, however, waiting for Aziraphale to say his piece.

“It’s been three years since Claire passed on,” he elaborated, mostly for Zane’s benefit, as everyone else in the room already knew his story. “And well past the time I chose another. You have been lenient with me these past several months, with all the changes we’ve gone through. But I would like your blessing now, in choosing the person I wish to make my Alistair vows for, once again.”

Choose another? Crowley didn’t understand. Was that how relationships in the avian kingdom worked? If your mate died, you mourned for an allotted amount of time and then just...flipped a switch and moved on? Picked the next available option and called it a day?

“Who is it?” Zane asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. Crowley could already tell that the serpiente prince had no qualms with Aziraphale choosing a mate and would support whoever the lucky person was. Mostly because Zane assumed he had no idea who they were. It wasn’t as if he spent much of his time off socializing with the dove and discussing their romantic relationships.

Heart in his throat, Crowley waited to see what the answer might be. He hoped and he prayed that he knew what was coming next, but the serpent didn’t dare presume. After all, he didn’t want to go too fast.

Time seemed to slow down as Aziraphale turned toward Crowley and smiled. So pure and so bright the serpent thought he might melt there on the spot. He felt himself rooted there in shock until the avian extended his left hand, calling Crowley to his side where he belonged.

“ _Oh_ ,” Crowley heard Danica breathe over the sound of his own thrumming heart. He sidled up to Aziraphale, slipping his arm around the avian’s waist as he turned toward his Naga and Diente. Zane was still standing firm, garnet eyes shimmering with surprise. He looked so much like Gregory in that moment that Crowley could have sworn his friend was standing in the room with them all, looking down at them with a fond smile upon his face.

“Oh, _Aziraphale._ ” Danica had tears in her eyes, but her smile was bright as she looked back and forth at the pair, as if seeing them for the first time. “Crowley. Yes. A thousand times yes. You have our blessing - my blessing,” she amended as she looked back at Zane with wide, golden eyes.

The man smiled down at them, but there was a wariness to the look. “I would be the last person to ever stand in the way of love,” he assured them both, and Crowley found himself clutching Aziraphale tighter, hanging on to his Diente’s every word. “But I will warn you that being together in such a way - it will not be easy.”

He reached out to pull Danica close to him. “Danica and I have experienced our own share of problems, including that of assassination attempts, as you well know. We have had our judgement questioned at every turn, our decisions challenged over and over again.”

The cobra paused, taking in a deep breath before letting his anxieties fade away to be replaced with a soft and genuine joy. “But, should you decide to walk this path, Danica and I will proudly walk it with you.”

“My heart is unwavering,” Aziraphale assured both royals and Crowley felt his heart pulse with love. This was really happening. Aziraphale really _wanted_ him. And not just as someone to pass the time with. He wanted to be Crowley’s Alistair - to proclaim vows of love toward him for all to hear. “There _is not_ and _will never_ be anyone else.”

Zane and Danica turned to Crowley, whose mouth had suddenly gone very dry. What could he say that hadn’t been said already?

“Aziraphale is my angel,” the words tumbled forth, as if they had a mind of their own. He knew that even though both Zane and Danica might not understand the full weight of his words, they would recognize this final missing piece to his story. “He sang the song that resonated with my soul and brought me back from the brink of death.”

There was no proof to this claim, of course. It was foolish to think that a simple song could have done anything to stop the poison from destroying him completely. Except for this _feeling_ Crowley had deep down. There were no words to explain what had happened that night, three years ago. But he knew it in his heart to be true.

Aziraphale had saved him.

“There is no one else in whom my soul doth rest,” Crowley recited, feeling the love blossoming out of him, as subtle as a morning glory’s petals after a gentle rainfall. “No one else whom my heart could ever love.”

Silence fell between the four of them for a moment as the confessions sunk in. For Danica and Zane, this must be huge. No longer were they the only mixed race couple. No longer was their peace in danger of shattering with a single act. They had been through the worst of it, and though the road ahead for all of them was long and filled with challenges, they had each other. And that would always be enough.

“Well then!” Zane clapped, jarring all of them out of their thoughts. “Shall we get to it? I’ve recited those vows once, I’m sure I’ll get them right this time around."

Crowley’s mouth dropped open as his heart stuttered back to life. He felt a wave of joy overtake him at the sound of Aziraphale’s laugh and the feeling of his strong hand against the serpent’s waist.

“You expect me to exchange vows of eternal love to the most important being in my life, dressed like this?” the dancer asked, glancing down at the plain clothes he’d hastily thrown on before arriving. “On what is quite possibly going to be the biggest day of my life?”

Both Zane and Danica laughed at this and a wide smile broke out across Crowley’s face as he leaned into Aziraphale’s strong frame, feeling the avian’s lips dance lightly across the skin of his forehead.

“How does tomorrow afternoon sound?” Danica asked, offering up a better suggestion than her mate’s initial proposal. Crowley grinned, half in overwhelming joy and half in anxious anticipation. This was really happening. Aziraphale was really going to be his for the rest of their lives. His mate. His Alistair.

Both parties exchanged a glance, Aziraphale’s blue eyes dancing with a love he no longer was trying to hide. Crowley nearly kissed him right then and there, but held himself back, turning to nod his head graciously at the couple who could have so easily turned them away. A couple who, instead, had chosen to place their hope in this avian and serpiente they now called friends.

“Perfect,” Zane smiled. Soft, gentle and filled with hope. “I know just the place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok....I may have lied a tiny bit. I've decided this work is in need of an epilogue (if only so I can describe Crowleys "wedding" outfit). It won't be nearly as long as my other chapters, so keep a lookout sometime tomorrow <3
> 
> You guys are the absolute best and it has been a privilege writing this story for you. Whether you've been with me from the start or you are just joining us, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.


	22. Epilogue

“What does one wear to a ceremony like this anyway?” Crowley asked as the pair settled down into bed later that night. He was facing away from Aziraphale, arm tucked across his bare chest in a tight hug. The avian knew it was a bit unprecedented, to be un-mated and sleeping in the same bed, but Crowley’s presence had brought him a comfort unlike he’d ever known that first night and Aziraphale hadn’t the heart to ask him to leave once the initial danger had passed. 

He leaned in, pressing his lips against the base of Crowley’s ear, feeling the serpent shiver under his touch as he pressed himself closer to Aziraphale’s front side. A hint of a frown began to creep its way onto the avian’s face. Normally, an act like that would have prompted the affectionate serpent to roll over and take Aziraphale’s face in his hands to bestow a much firmer kiss, but Crowley remained turned away from him.

“Quite honestly, anything you like.” Was something the matter? Was Crowley nervous about their exchange of vows taking place the next day? He’d seemed happy enough about the idea when Aziraphale had asked Zane and Danica earlier, but perhaps he was having a change of heart, now that the reality was setting.

Perhaps, this time, Aziraphale had been the one to go too fast. 

“Is this…” he started, then fell silent, searching for the right words. Absentmindedly, his hands shifted to play with a collection of the serpent’s fiery curls, twirling each one by one around his fingertips as he spoke. “I will admit, I am lacking in my understanding of serpiente courting rituals. If this is not something you want, we certainly don’t have to -”

“No,” Crowley cut him off firmly, only a hint of desperation shining through. Gently, he wiggled around to face Aziraphale, his leg getting caught underneath the covers only once, halting him in his tracks for a moment as he fought to free himself.

“I want this,” he assured, amber eyes dancing in the moonlight still filtering through the silken curtains on the opposite wall. There were no words to describe the warmth that welled up inside of Aziraphale’s chest whenever he returned to his chambers after his shift was complete to find Crowley there, waiting for him. Curled up in the armchair by the window, either gazing outside at the gentle rising sun, or playing a soft tune on his lyre. The avian had never had that before - something to come home to - and the first time it had happened, he found he never wanted it to end.

“I want _you_ Aziraphale,” he amended, lifting a hand to brush the avian’s cheek gently. For a brief moment, Aziraphale closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, savoring the sensation, wishing they might stay here like this forever. “However you are willing. I just - I don’t necessarily know that much about avian culture either?” He sounded so nervous - so unsure. So afraid of doing something wrong.

“I don’t know if I understand what this is, what is expected of me.”

Aziraphale smiled, leaning in to press a light kiss to Crowley’s nose that brought forth the most charming blush to his pointed cheeks. 

“Tomorrow,” the avian began, thankful that he could at least assuage some of his partner’s fears. “You and I will meet up with Zane and Danica. Irene and Galen will be there too, along with a handful of guards. And I will promise to stand by your side, and protect you from all harm.” Aziraphale lifted his hand to the fingers that were still dancing across his cheek and brought them slowly, lovingly to his lips where he lay a gossamer kiss. “I will promise to do all in my power to make you feel safe, and loved. For as long as our lives shall allow it.”

His eyes were so wide, as wide as they had been as he’d knelt on this very floor and let his deepest fears be known. The black pupils were not as narrow this time around, so Aziraphale knew Crowley was not terrified. Still, there was something else here he could not place, and for the first time, he almost wished he had the same ability to sense emotion like the serpiente could.

“And that’s not…” Crowley trailed off, breaking eye contact for a moment as his gaze fell to examine the patch of bare skin and wisps of curly white hair at the hollow of Aziraphale’s throat. The avian remained quiet, allowing his love time to gather his thoughts. Blue eyes traveled to Crowley’s bare chest as it rose with effort, a rush of air entering the man’s lungs, tension in the space between them palpable.

“I kissed you,” the serpent announced, seeming to shift gears out of nowhere. “In the synkal. And you pushed me away. But now you want to spend your life keeping me safe. I - “ he broke off, finally summoning the courage to gaze back up at Aziraphale’s face. “Don’t get me wrong, angel. I couldn’t be more grateful for the change, I just don’t understand it.”

“Help me to understand?”

A pang of guilt flashed through Aziraphale’s chest and by the look on Crowley’s face, Aziraphale could tell he had sensed it. _Good,_ he thought, taking a moment to gather his own thoughts. The time for secrets between them was over. He’d spend the rest of his life working to be completely transparent whenever Crowley was around if it meant Aziraphale got to keep him. 

“I saw what my life would be like without you in it.” The words tasted heavy on his tongue and it took a significant amount of effort not to push back the tears that were beginning to rise up within him. Being transparent with his emotions was certainly not a natural thing. “You kissed me, and it was so very wonderful. I wasn’t holding anything back at first, surely you must have felt it.”

Crowley nodded in affirmation and Aziraphale continued, making sure his gaze never left Crowley’s. “I was so afraid of what a relationship between us might mean. Our ways of life are so different, and while I believed, in time, your people might come to accept me, I feared mine never would. I still do.”

Another deep, shaky breath, and he continued. “I feared the peace wouldn’t last. That we’d be torn apart, forced to fight in another senseless war. I feared that allowing myself to love you would be what caused me to lose you.”

A single tear escaped from Crowley’s eye, sliding over the bridge of his nose to drip down on the pillow resting underneath. “But I lost you anyway. Or - rather, I was _losing_ you. And when Danica’s life hung in the balance, I realized that I couldn’t exist without you anymore. I didn’t _want_ to go through life without you by my side. I won’t pretend to tell you it will be easy. I can’t promise there aren’t challenges still left to face. But I can promise you that I will keep you safe through both the calm and through the storm. If you will let me.”

Crowley was crying, but the soft smile on his face suggested there was nothing immediately wrong.

“What about me?” the serpent finally asked, removing his hand from Aziraphale’s momentarily as he wiped the moisture from his face. “What is it that I get to promise?”

Aziraphale paused. Traditionally, the woman wasn’t required to make any declarations of intent. It was the male’s job to be her protector. It was what he had been raised his whole life to do, and she owed him nothing for it. But, he could see that in a culture that was much more focused on ideas like passion rather than duty, how Crowley might wish to make vows of his own.

“What would you like to promise?” the avian asked, a bit more breathless than he’d originally intended. Would this feeling ever go away? This intense beating of his heart whenever Crowley looked his way?

In the darkness of the night, Crowley smiled and pulled Aziraphale close, pressing a kiss to his lips as he reached a hand up to dance over the feathers hidden in the curls at the nape of his neck. Aziraphale shivered at the touch, allowing himself to fully lean into it, cherishing each moment like this that they shared. 

“I’m sure I will think of something."

* * *

The garden was in full bloom when he arrived. Aziraphale hadn’t even known a place like this existed in the forests outside of sha’Mehay, but once he arrived, he could not imagine a place better than this to take his vows. Flowers dotted the greenery of the forest floor - an assortment of blues and yellows and purples with a hint of pink and orange thrown in the mix. 

Zane and Danica stood together in front of a stone fountain with several levels of water cascading down into the next, creating a miniature waterfall on all sides. Andreios, ever present by Danica’s side, had joined them, standing off by one of the nearby pine trees. He was watching Aziraphale with steady dark eyes, not exactly in a judgmental way, but not nearly as excitedly as his Tuuli Thea and her Alistair.

What did the crow think of him, that he was making this choice? Was he secretly disgusted that Aziraphale would choose to promise his life to a serpent? To another man? Or had the events from the previous week softened his heart enough to permit such a thing? Aziraphale had not taken the time to consider what choosing Crowley as a mate would mean for him as a soldier. For his position in the Royal Flight.

However, as the avian looked over and Andreios met his gaze, the crow gave a soft nod. A sign that his position was still in effect. He nodded his head in return. A silent ‘thank you’ for allowing him to continue protecting his Tuuli Thea. For as long as he was able.

“Are you nervous?”

Aziraphale turned his head to look at Zane. He was standing in a relaxed manner, shoulder occasionally brushing up against Danica’s as they waited. In addition to Crowley, there were a few more attendants that would be joining them soon. All parties involved had decided it would be in their best interest not to hold such an occasion in front of the entire court - avian or serpiente. The tensions between the two races were still running high. It was one thing to ask them to accept their rulers’ union - a union with which they could disagree, but not object to. But asking them to accept a match between two members not within the royal court? It may be too much, too soon.

“No,” Aziraphale answered honestly. “For as long as I’ve known him, I’ve wanted to keep Crowley safe. This is my chance to make that pledge to him.”

Zane ‘hmmed’ in thought, something stirring in his garnet eyes. Aziraphale turned to ask if he cared to volunteer what was on his mind, but Danica turned to him in that moment to ask her question instead?

“Were you nervous when you gave your vows?”

Zane shot her an amused smiled, but the fondness in his eyes was impossible to hide. Aziraphale found himself smiling at the reaction. He was happy for Danica - happy for them both. They’d made an impossible choice, to believe that peace could be reached between their two kingdoms. They’d been willing to give up everything to reach that goal, and had somehow gained everything instead. 

“In a way,” he admitted, reaching down to take her hand. “I didn’t want to lie to you, even then.”

Before the conversation could continue, a snapping twig could be heard in the distance. All eyes turned to look down the path, spotting several figures approaching them. Irene and Galen were out in front, the soldier gently holding out his hand for her to latch onto as she shuffled her way over to the nearest bench to sit down. Behind her, Aziraphale could see the top of a very blonde head, a person who could only be Ailbhe. 

To his surprise, the avian was happy to see the viper. He knew the events of the past few days could not have been easy on the man. Ailbhe had lost his former queen at his only sister’s hand. While he had been spared the task of actually carrying out her final punishment, he had still been there to witness Zane cast his judgement, as well as the act that followed. Aziraphale admired the man for staying true to what was expected of him. He didn’t know, given the same opportunity, if he would have been able to do the same.

The moment they split off and Crowley came into view, Aziraphale’s breath stilled in his chest. He’d been thinking about it all night and well into the following morning after the serpent had left for sha’Mehay to get ready. Aziraphale had known Crowley would be breathtaking in whatever he chose to wear, but the dancer had simply outdone himself.

Once again, he wore loose fitting pants - white this time - that cinched at both his waist and ankles. His feet were tucked into sparkling golden shoes that matched the tunic rising up over his chest. It was a different style to anything he had seen before, choosing to cling tightly to his abdomen and rise up around his neck like a halter, leaving his shoulders and arms entirely bare. The fabric shimmered in the dappled light as he approached, along with the flowing cape-like garment attached by ornate gold bands positioned around his neck, just above the elbow, and his wrists. It was translucent white, fluttering in the breeze like a butterfly’s wings. A perfect, soft contrast to the stark image of him from the neck up.

From the beginning, one of Crowley’s features that had drawn Aziraphale to him the most had been his hair. Today was no exception. All of the fiery tresses had been pushed to one side, a single braid running down the length of it. It was loose and flowing, with a handful of curls left to frame his face. As he approached, Aziraphale caught sight of tiny white flowers tucked into the overlapping strands, bringing the entire ensemble together in a way Aziraphale could only marvel at.

“Crowley…” he breathed, reaching out to take the serpent’s hand as Crowley finally settled by Aziraphale’s side. “You are an absolute vision.”

The serpent blushed, squeezing tightly to Aziraphale’s hands as the couple turned to face their Diente and his Naga. Their Tuuli Thea and her Alistair.

Zane and Danica smiled at them, and by Crowley’s reassuring squeeze, he knew that the other four in their presence were all genuinely there to support this next step in both of their lives. Knowing he and Crowley had allies such as these to stand by them brought an immense amount of relief into his heart. Even though the road ahead might be challenging, Aziraphale knew they would get through it together. 

All of them.

“Crowley,” Danica began, addressing the serpent standing before her. “You have chosen Aziraphale as your Alistair, as your protector, of your own free will and without coercion?”

He nodded his head enthusiastically, the reflection of the sun giving the lighter strands on the surface a golden hue. “I have.”

“Aziraphale,” Zane continued, reciting the very questions that Andreios had asked him so many months ago. “Are you willing to swear upon your own spirit and the sky above that you will protect Crowley from all harm?”

Aziraphale nodded his assent, opening his mouth to lend voice to his promise. “Upon my spirit, I will so swear.”

“And do you swear you will never raise voice or hand against him?” Aziraphale was transfixed by the garnet eyes gazing down at him, but not due to any expression of fear. “Will you treat him with dignity and respect, listen to him, and value him as an equal partner from this day forward?”

Again, Aziraphale nodded. “I will cherish him as my life’s greatest blessing, through this lifetime and whatever else may come.”

A soft smile echoed on the cobra’s face, as he likely was thinking back to his own vows and the half truths he had been forced to tell then. Aziraphale wondered if he had reaffirmed those vows to Danica a second time, now that they both had realized the true depths of their feelings.

“Crowley is a member of the serpiente court,” Zane announced and Aziraphale felt his partner shift almost imperceptibly beside him. He wanted to glance over, to ensure everything was alright, but the cobra held his gaze and Aziraphale found he was unable to. “A dancer of sha’Mehay, and an honorary member of the Cobriana family.” 

He broke eye contact for a moment to glance not at Crowley or Danica, but over at Irene. Aziraphale followed his king’s gaze and saw that the woman was smiling, tears glistening on her cheeks as she rested a hand over her swollen belly. “When you swear to him, you also swear to his people - his family.”

Aziraphale nodded in understanding as Zane continued. “Will you protect them as you would your own family, and risk all that is necessary in order to defend them?”

The avian took a moment to think about what was being asked of him. Those people who had gathered here today - they were all that was left of the Cobriana line. Just as Danica and her mother was all that was left of the line leading back to Alisdair - the first avian queen. In the months that he had been stationed here at the palace, Aziraphale had come to understand the serpiente, had come to appreciate their culture - their stories and their music and their dance. He cared for this place, just as it had cared for Crowley for all of his life, up until now.

Of _course_ he would want to protect it as his own.

“Crowley’s home will forever be my home,” he responded, finally able to break from tradition and say his piece. “His family is my family. I will do all in my power to make this peace last so that we all can live in a brighter future.”

Zane then turned to Danica, whose golden eyes were already fixed on Crowley’s face. “Before I make the final pronouncement, was there anything you wished to say?”

The serpent nodded, then turned to face Aziraphale, lifting both his hands so they were resting gently in his own. 

“My life was over,” he began and Aziraphale felt a pang in his chest. Some strange combination of sorrow and overwhelming love and gratitude. “In that field, I closed my eyes knowing that moment would be the last thing I ever saw. There was no question in my mind. And then I heard you sing and my whole world changed.”

“You brought me back from the brink of death.” His voice was so solid, so sure, yet so filled to the brim with emotion it made Aziraphale want to break down. How different would his life had been had he not flown out into that field? Had he left as soon as he realized it was his enemy who had been injured beyond repair? “You entered my thoughts and my dreams. You gave me a reason to hope again.”

A single tear dripped down Aziraphale’s cheek, but he did not lift a hand to wipe it away. He wasn’t going to release his beloved’s hands for anything. “And then I met you,” the serpent continued, emotion sneaking into his voice as his throat bobbed with the effort of keeping it from consuming him. “And you surprised me at every turn. With your kindness in how you treated people you’d been raised to hate. Your dedication as you learned the ways of my people.”

“You’re my angel - “ his voice finally broke on that word. Crowley’s chin quavered and twin tears rolled down his sharp cheekbones, dripping down from his chin onto the forest floor. “And I have loved you with all of my heart from the moment I met you.” He took in a deep breath to try and gather himself for what he had left to say. “I promise to always be there at your side, so you never have to face the night on your own. So you never have to feel alone again.”

His speech came to a close and Aziraphale found himself gripping the serpent’s hands tightly within his own. Love bubbled up inside of him, threatening to spill over like the fountain they currently stood beside. Aziraphale could never remember feeling this happy before. 

This was sure to be a moment that would live in his heart for the rest of his life.

‘I love you’, the avian mouthed as they both turned back to Zane and Danica. Crowley smiled, the deep amber of his serpentine eyes saying everything that words could never say.

_I know. I love you too. My angel._

“Crowley,” Danica beamed, a single tear hovering in the corner of her eye as she recited the final words the ceremony had to give. “You have chosen this man as your Alistair.” A pause, a breath as she turned back to the dove standing before her. “Aziraphale, you have sworn to defend Crowley, your mate. Your pair bond. Upon these words you have spoken, you are bound for life.”

Both avian and serpiente were grinning now, teary eyes shimmering with emotion. Aziraphale could not sense the feelings rolling off Crowley’s form, but he knew in that moment they echoed his own. Beat for beat. Stride for stride. Note for note.

As the final words were spoken, Aziraphale stepped closer and with a cupped hand, closed the distance between them. It was off script and outside tradition, but this was a new experience for all involved. Never before had an avian and a serpiente come together in this way with these words, not even Danica and Zane. Aziraphale hoped that their union might become the start of a truly wonderful future, where avian and serpiente could truly exist together in harmony. Without hate and fear, but in love.

Until that day came, he would enjoy this tiny piece of heaven that had somehow, miraculously, become his. This wonderful creature that had captured his heart and mind all those years ago. The one who had given him hope when he’d thought the world had gone dark. Aziraphale would cherish Crowley and protect him, here and now and for all of the days of his life.

_My prayer is simple, my dear one, my dear one_

_May you never need understand_

_My prayer is for peacetime, my child, my child_

_Live it well, and this life can be grand._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is the end, guys. After nearly a year of working on this fic, it is finally done. I think I might just cry. A huge HUGE thank you to all of you who left kudos and especially to those of you who left me comments. Whether it was only once or diligently on each and every chapter I left you with. Without that feedback, I don't know if I ever would have finished. I thank you for being patient while I struggled through parts of this fic, and for those of you who stayed, I hope it was all worth it.
> 
> The sequel is in the works, but I likely won't be posting the first chapter until the holidays (current target is Thanksgiving). I need to re-read Snakecharm and possibly the other books to make sure my plot aligns with the world the original author already created. I tried to tie up most of the loose ends this story introduced, but you may find yourself wondering some of the following:
> 
> *How exactly did Crowley survive the arrow that poisoned him at the beginning?  
> *Is his serpent form damaged for good? Or is there a way to permanently heal him?  
> *What is going to happen to Aziraphale and Crowley once their people find out about their union?  
> *Will Danica and Zane be able to successfully bring their two worlds together, or will their differences be too much to overcome?  
> *How exactly did the war start between them in the first place?  
> *Why did she (the author) keep mentioning falcons when we didn't get to see any?
> 
> And you likely have many more questions to add to that list. If you have questions I did not answer, PLEASE leave them in the comments or message me on social media (links provided at the end). I don't want to miss anything in the sequel, especially for those who have not read the Kiesha'ra series and may not have picked up on any of the foreshadowing I've been sprinkling in as we've gone along. I want this next story to be the best experience for you possible, and I may overlook something that I think is self-explanatory because these books are so fresh in my mind.
> 
> If you are looking for something to tide you over until then, I would love for you to check out some of my other works. I have a decently sized library, but my two ongoing AUs are one based off Avatar the Last Airbender (https://archiveofourown.org/works/24537322) and Megamind/Superheroes (https://archiveofourown.org/works/26242948). If either of those look interesting to you, please come check them out and say hello! Also, I WILL be posting a link to the sequel here as soon as the first chapter is released, so if you want a notification when that story starts, subscribe to this one so you don't miss it!
> 
> And with that, I bid you all a fond farewell. I have loved sharing this journey with you - this world with you - and I hope to see you all again, really soon.
> 
> P.S. Happy Birthday to GoldenFox1221!!!! My very first commenter 11 months ago when this story started and the reason I didn't abandon this fic at the start <3 I'm likely a few days early, but I hope you have a wonderful week.
> 
> My social media (please don't hesitate to say hi! I love talking to you all):  
> https://braver-stronger-smarter.tumblr.com/  
> https://www.twitter.com/beckers522  
> https://www.instagram.com/beckers_522


	23. Fic #2: A Serpent's Fear

Hey everyone! Just a quick update here. As promised, I have launched the first chapter of fic #2, entitled "A Serpent's Fear". You can find and follow it here (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27939483) or, if you would like to subscribe to the overarching series, it is titled "The Ase'Mareksa Chronicles" and can be found at this link: (https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045802). This fic will follow the second book in the series, "Snakecharm" and will introduce a lot of lore and conflict with the falcons, who we haven't seen much of yet so far. The falcons are some of my favorite characters in this book series, and I am very excited to explore their culture and history. I am also working on plans for a third fic that will coincide with the remaining three books in the series, but more details on that at a later time!

The sequel fic is currently rated 'E' just to be safe. I have planned two explicit scenes throughout the fic that will be stand alone. If that sort of content isn't your thing, it will be very easy to skip. I'll put warnings in the top notes sections when we get there, so you can choose for yourself whether to read or not! There is a chance I'll lower it to 'M' depending on how in detail those chapters end up, but for the time being, I am subscribing to the "better safe than sorry" mentality. 

Fun fact: Amelia Atwater-Rhodes created a whole language for the original book series and I may have spent a whole afternoon documenting and researching what I could to accurately translate the phrase "Good Omens" into said language. This is where the title for the overall series comes from. 'Ase', meaning 'Good', and 'Mareksa', meaning 'Foreboding'.

Feel free to remain subscribed to this fic if you want to. I tend to upload fanart (both mine and from other readers) to extra chapters at the ends of my fics, even after the story is finished. If you're not interested in those kinds of updates, you can unsubscribe, now that the new fic has officially started. 

A huge thank you to all of you for sticking around and being so supportive. I honestly had NO idea that anyone would be interested in a story like this (there were 22 fics in the Kiesha'ra fandom when I started this story over a year ago, so my expectations were low), but your enthusiasm blew me out of the water. I am SO EXCITED to continue telling this story (it is honestly the only one of my current fics that I'm inspired to write, so I'll be chasing that inspiration as long as it lasts). I love you all, and I hope to see you all again soon!

-Beckers

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note to say I adore comments and kudos. I promise you, I read every single one of them, so if you have the time, I'd love to hear from you.
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr and twitter. I absolutely love talking to people (especially about books and writing!) so feel free to reach out and say hello :)
> 
> https://braver-stronger-smarter.tumblr.com/  
> https://twitter.com/beckers522


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